


Hermione Granger and the Serpent's Renaissance: year 4 [DRAFT]

by epsi10n



Series: Hermione Granger and the Serpent's Renaissance [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-02-11 23:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12946122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epsi10n/pseuds/epsi10n
Summary: This is my draftbox for year 4 of Hermione Granger and the Serpent's Renaissance. A proper and finished version of year 4 will eventually be posted in a few months, but I'm posting these chapters before they're officially ready because reviews give me tonnes of inspiration and help me write faster. Before you enter though, please note the following WARNING: erratic postings, non-existent update schedule, major retcons with no warning!If you're gracious enough to put up with the above, however, I'd be grateful if you could come in and leave your thoughts....Pretty please?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Summary of Year 4: Entering the Fray
> 
> The puppet master finally comes downstairs to greet the masses. Influencer, old families, and other participants in the game of power scramble to adapt their plans as 'S' slowly emerges from the shadows. At the same time, at Hogwarts, a different sort of "game" begins with the onset of puberty, and certain people's realization that Sal is a pretty girl brings trouble of its own. Meanwhile, a noseless parselmouth makes his own attempt at resurrection...

~sSs~

Year 4: Entering the fray

~sSs~

_‘To my friend S:_

_I’ve received your letter and reasoning for moving forward with the motion you described. If this passes the Wizengamot vote, the return would certainly be highly favourable._

_However, are we not biting off more that we can chew? Public opinion has only begun to turn in favour of leniency towards the dark arts, and even then the extent of the shift is unclear. Can we really expect to be allowed to legalize the use of nearly three-quarters of dark arts, albeit for defensive purposes only?_

_Perhaps it would be safer to move more slowly? We’ve already succeeded in reclassifying over a hundred dark spells since our momentous solution to the Muggle Protection Act. Would it not be more sensible to continue the steady progress, squeezing as much out of this opportunity as possible before Dumbledore and his allies become alarmed enough to push back?_

_Regards,_

_Lysander Selwyn’_

______________________________________

_‘To the Ven. Mr. Selwyn,_

_I realize that my most recent proposal is a large step above all of our efforts so far on the dark arts front. However, the present moment is an excellent time to be ambitious._

_You know as well as I that public attention must be sustained by tangible, relevant changes, lest it die down and leave us stranded with the status quo. The business opportunities generated when this motion passes will provide that change, in a way that reclassifying obscure spells cannot. Not only are we in a prime position financially to take advantage of the legislative relaxation, my friend, a dramatic move such as this is necessary if our political objectives are to advance further._

_The reason why we should do it now, however, is Dumbledore._

_Recently, the Minister’s Senior Undersecretary drafted a Werewolf Registration Bill, which is currently scheduled to be reviewed by the Wizengamot next month. This is a legislation which Dumbledore will go to great lengths to stop. While he is campaigning for the deregulation of dark creatures that are dangerous and misunderstood, it will be difficult for him to rally the public or his allies against our campaign’s nearly identical themes. He will not interfere with us at the risk of sabotaging himself, at least in this instance._

_In keeping with this strategy, our motion should ideally be reviewed by the Wizengamot prior to that of Mme. Umbridge’s. It would be in our interest for Mme. Umbridge to have sufficient capital to run a proper campaign (I believe you are in the best position to ensure this, Mr. Selwyn), but publicly we will be completely disinterested in the werewolf bill. Send the signal that our votes can still be won, so that Dumbledore will be further incentivized to make concessions elsewhere._

_Strike now, and our chance of passing the Wizengamot vote will be unprecedented._

_To success, my friend._

_S.’_

_______________________________________________

_‘My mysterious friend,_

_We have accelerated the bureaucratic pre-processing procedures. Our motion is scheduled to be reviewed two days before Umbridge’s werewolf bill. I can only hope that Dumbledore will choose to prioritize that one over ours._

_May I inquire as to the source of your insight on the behaviour of Dumbledore and his allies? You seem quite optimistic about Dumbledore’s lack of interference._

_Yours,_

  1. _Nott’_



_________________________________________________

_‘My dear skeptical comrad,_

_That is excellent news. Yours and Ven. Mr. Malfoy’s success will improve our prospects tremendously. At this stage, all that remains is to continue our current campaign. We should expect 90% of the neutral voters and just under half of Dumbledore’s bloc to vote with us, giving us a clear majority._

_I expect many of us will be obligated to vote with Mme. Umbridge, but I would strongly recommend that we block the werewolf bill. To side with Dumbledore in this instance may incentivize him to cooperate with us again in similar situations._

_Best regards,_

_S._

_P.S. My prediction of Dumbledore’s reaction is based in part on the interests of his allies and the interest of people he believes he will potentially need on his side in the future. To say any more would be to release sensitive information, my friend. I am sure you understand.’_

________________________________________________

_‘Hello S.,_

_I had to pass up your previous request for my help in establishing a ministry-run fund to stimulate the growth of charms and enchantment businesses. I must admit that I am regretting my decision. You could have told me that your backup plan was to hand a million-galleon investment opportunity to Lucius and Alessandra._

_I am writing to let you know that I want in this time._

_Cheers,_

_Maurius Bulstrode’_

______________________________________________

_‘Dear Maurius,_

_I am glad to see that someone is planning for victory before the battle even begins!_

_I am grateful too, because we have reached a stage where every second counts. The faster we move, the more we all maximize our gains._

_It would be tremendously helpful, for example, for there to be a support structure to attract talented wizards/witches to the fledgling profession of dark warding. Imagine all the business opportunities that everyone will go after. Imagine the labour shortage that will occur as a result._

_But I believe you must have thought of this already. You did reach out to me, after all._

_All the best,_

_S.’_

________________________________________________

_‘Albus,_

_I hope your week has been enjoyable, because mine has been the perfect reminder of why I hated this head of house business. Honestly, I’d thought this was off my shoulders when (my?) dear Mother blasted me off the family tapestry, but apparently our inheritance rules didn’t allow disownment from the Black family itself. I’m still not entirely sure how that leaves me as the one who gets to play politics. Parties are supposed to be fun, and all the ones I’ve been to this summer are as far from that as imaginable. But of course, anything compares favourably to Azkaban._

_Harry insists on going to these “parties”, funny enough. I think his friends are making him go just so they don’t get too bored themselves._

_Anyways, on to business. I’ve managed to convince MacDougal and Smith to vote with us. I’ve been told that Greengrass might be interested as well, but I haven’t tried her yet. McLaggen is still undecided, and he’s ridiculously hard to convince. I thought he’s supposed to be on our side?_

_The dark bloc looks like they’ve been busy too. Malfoy and Pike are making some sort of a sales pitch for loosening the laws around dark arts. What’s our plan for that?_

_Best wishes,_

_Sirius’_

_______________________________________

_‘Dear Sirius,_

_I must commend you again for taking on this responsibility. It’s a heavy burden to bear, but essential to our cause. At the moment you and Amos are our strongest influencers in the Wizengamot apart from myself, and you have a better chance of persuading the neutrals than anyone else._

_It is important to remember the distinction between allegiance during the war and political alignment, Sirius, now much more so than thirteen years ago. The McLaggen family is with us by virtue of being anti-dark, but they are fearful. This is precisely why some of our wartime allies may need a bit more convincing._

_The situation you described is interesting indeed. You may be surprised to find that Aaron Pike, despite his evident Death Eater affiliations during the war, is considered politically neutral. Meanwhile Alessandra Greengrass, neutral with respect to the war, is in fact one of the central members of the dark-traditionalist bloc. She is also, excepting Augusta Longbottom, the only member of the Wizengamot who also sits on the Senate. I would very much like to view your memories of what exactly was said about Mme. Greengrass’s intentions and the context, please. I suspect we are being sent some sort of message, and it is entirely possible that more than a single vote is on the table, so to say._

_Best wishes to you, Remus, and Harry,_

_Albus Dumbledore’_

______________________________________

_’_ **_10 000+ spells legalized for warding, expected to create new industry_ **

_Alec Hasting, Daily Prophet politics correspondent_

_Yesterday, the Senate ruled in favour of Bill E13, put forth by the Wizengamot on August 14th. Bill E13 modifies the Usage of Magic Act and adds more nuances to the legislation around potent magic, many of which are still presently classified as dark arts._

_Experts believe that Bill E13 will enable warding and related services to grow from a smattering of shops to a full industry, creating opportunities for investors and job-seekers alike. Those with curse-breaker training or similar expertise, for example, can consider a career in property warding, security systems, or the enchantment of related supplies._

_According to analysts at the Department of Finance, this legislative change is expected to stimulate the economy and raise the GDP of magical Britain by 5.2% (i.e. 30k Galleons)…’_

_______________________________________________

**_‘Proposed Werewolf Safety Bill rejected in Wizengamot voting_ **

_Darryl Key, Daily Prophet junior politics correspondent…’_

____________________________________

_‘My dear friend S.,_

_I expect you are already aware of our victory. Given our excellent representation in the Senate, when we passed the Wizengamot vote one could consider the Snitch caught._

_I must admit, I did not expect to succeed this time. You’ve accumulated a reputation for surprises, but to try to legalize almost all branches of dark arts, albeit with restrictions, is incredibly bold even for you. Nevertheless, your plan accomplished its most important goals, and for that I commend you._

_My husband Darius will be hosting a ball in a week’s time to commemorate this political milestone, and he tells me he is preparing to triple the size of our little party last year. We are inviting all of our connections, and everyone is welcomed to bring their own friends as well. Is there any chance we will be discovering there the mastermind behind the cause of our celebration?_

_Please do be kind and clue us in now, my friend. Perhaps I should inform Darius that he need not bother with the main entertainments of the day._

_A toast to victory,_

_Alessandra Greengrass’_

____________________________________________

_‘My dear friend Alessandra,_

_From what I hear of your upcoming ball, it sounds like I will almost certainly be there. Please rest assured that I do not yet intend to reveal my identity, however. The spotlight will be on our host and hostess, as it rightfully should be._

_I, too, am delighted by the results of our campaign, and even more excited by the doors that we have now opened. I look forward to corresponding with you again._

_My compliments to you and your family,_

_S.’_

____________________________________________

_‘Albus,_

_Are we really going to let them get away with this? Legalization of most branches of dark arts for “defensive enchantment”, and probably some more through loopholes hiding somewhere in the wording? Merlin knows what they’re going to try next, now that they’ve managed to pull this off. The dark-traditionalists are literally having a ball!_

_Alastor Moody’_

________________________________________________

_‘Dear Alastor,_

_I appreciate your concerns about the deregulation of dark arts. However, I am afraid this is a time when we must pick our battles. You saw for yourself the results of the Wizengamot vote on the Werewolf Safety Bill. Without the cooperation of the dark-traditionalists we would have been defeated, given the number of ministry members who sided with Mme. Umbridge and the reluctance within the light-progressive faction itself._

_I hope you can appreciate that Mme. Umbridge’s legislation is more dangerous than the most recent move by the dark-traditionalists, Alastor. Oppressive and discriminatory legislations like this are the fuel that drove werewolves to Voldemort’s side during the last war, which I am still hesitant to declare as over (if you recall our previous conversation). Not only do we owe it to some of our own friends and allies to stop this inhumane treatment, it is highly valuable to subvert this rallying point to our side – or remove it failing that._

_Regardless, we are no longer in a position to undo the efforts of the dark-traditionalists at the present moment. Now that their motion has passed into law, we would need to pass a bill of our own to reverse Bill E13. The Senate will of course never allow such a thing to happen, even if we may be able to sway the Wizengamot in our favour._

_At present we must make our peace with the development, Alastor, and be ever more vigilant in ensuring that the dark arts deregulation movement does not gain too much momentum. Although it will be more difficult, the train has not run away yet, and we are here to ensure that it does not._

_Best wishes,_

_Albus Dumbledore’_


	2. Chapter 2

(Chapter 2)

Lord Voldemort’s soul floated, searching. In his current form he could go anywhere he pleased, although he could not see his surroundings or destination without a body to possess. Fortunately, he did not need eyes this time to locate what he was after.

He’d been so close to victory two years ago! With the Philosopher’s Stone, he could have rebuilt a body right then and there - except Dumbledore caught on. Following that incident, he was relegated to drifting about again. He’d gone back to Albania, in the hope that the previous rumours of his presence there would direct someone else - a servant or an over-confident fool - to him, but no-one sought him out. After two years, Lord Voldemort was growing impatient.

He needed a servant devoted enough to return him to life, and only true devotion would satisfy the ritual. The lot of faithless fools who abandoned him and went right back to sipping wine in their manors were useless. This servant must be willing to die for him, to trade their life for his, which meant they would have already tried to seek him out and got punished for it. On that assumption, there was one logical place to look.

Lord Voldemort reached out with his limited senses, and set off purposefully. Colder, colder… yes.

Without control over nerves souls generally cannot determine temperature, but the presence of Dementors sent a chill through even him. They did not seem to pay him any attention as he entered Azkaban. The creation of his horcruxes had made him immune.

Others would flee from Dementors, but Lord Voldemort drifted toward the darkest, coldest part of the prison where the Dementors would be most numerous. And with them, the top security prisoners.

From there it was a simple matter of feeling for traces of his own magic in their Dark Marks. He almost smirked when he found one - but that would require a mouth, would it not? Seizing control over the Mark, he sent a jolt of magic into the prisoner’s left forearm.

He could feel the prisoner’s hope, yearning and euphoria at the contact, emotions which allowed him to attach himself to them. “My lord?”

Ah, Bellatrix. Luck was on his side.

“My lord remembers me!” Exclaimed Bella, “I tried, my lord! I tried to find you, but I couldn’t make them talk - Please forgive me, my lord!”

Bellatrix was useful that way. He could demand of her all she had, and she’d still apologize for not being able to offer more. There was no resentment, no pesky complaints, no need to appease her with some token reward like the others. She was one of his best assets.

He felt a wave of happiness course through Bellatrix. “You know I’m yours, my lord! My lord knows I am his most faithful servant!”

“I see your loyalty, Bella,” Lord Voldemort told her, “and for that, I will forgive your failure to find me if you continue to serve me well.”

It was a shame that he’d have to sacrifice such a useful tool to the ritual. Still, his resurrection would obviously be more important, and Bellatrix was by far the most suitable candidate. Now, he could either perform the ritual right here and escape Azkaban as himself, or direct Bella to escape and perform the ritual on the outside.

“My lord…My life is yours.”

Perhaps the latter would be preferable. It was much more difficult to move a body out of Azkaban as opposed to just a soul. If they don’t manage to escape unnoticed due to these difficulties, at least the ministry would not be alerted to his return before he’s ready to annihilate them.

“If I may, my lord,” a thought from Bella piped up again, “I’ve seen others get out of Azkaban. Sirius escaped by transforming into a mutt and Barty got smuggled out as his mother.”

“Do you doubt me, Bella?” Lord Voldemort’s voice was silky with unspoken threat, “Of course Lord Voldemort will have a way out. And what’s this about Bartemius Crouch?”

“He was stuffed into this place at the same time as me, but his mummy came by and switched places with him -”

So he had a servant who was both proven loyal and free! Not waiting for Bellatrix to finish the thought, Lord Voldemort swept out of Azkaban to pursue his new query. Using Bellatrix might have been faster, but Bartemius Crouch Jr. presented an opportunity that was even more ideal.

As a master of the most potent magicks, Lord Voldemort had discovered in his extensive studies two rituals that would allow a disembodied soul to resurrect. The first would use a method similar to possession, in which he would displace the soul in a vessel’s body and mould the new body into his image. It was the cruder of the two - all it required was a willing vessel. He did tell his Death Eaters that just one loyal servant would be enough to bring him back. The second ritual... had a few more requirements. Bone of the father - easily stolen. Flesh of a servant - not a challenge. And lastly, blood of an enemy, forcibly taken.

But Lord Voldemort preferred this method. It was cleaner. More sophisticated. Involved more of himself. And of course, if he was being honest with himself, there were only two living souls in the world who were worthy of being considered his enemy: Albus Dumbledore and - if he was being entirely honest with himself - Harry Potter.

Lord Voldemort wasted no more time, and extended his insidious grasp toward the Crouch residence…

In his office, Albus suckled on a lemon drop, savouring the rare moments of unoccupied time that he was allowed to have this summer.

Between flooing around to explain to allies over and over again why they should vote against the werewolf bill and trying to decipher the dark-traditionalists’ true game, he’d hardly had a single moment to relax. Truly, Albus was not ungrateful for the dark-traditionalists’ unexpected support - their votes secured an important victory that would have otherwise been dubious at best. But Albus did not agree completely with the conventional wisdom to “never look a gift horse in the mouth”. After all, as the Trojans had belatedly discovered, there could be danger within.

Why the change in strategy? True, the approval of Bill E13 would not only be a major victory for them but most likely also a permanent one. The government of magical Britain operated on a two-tiered system. The Wizengamot, the tier that had power to draft or revise legislations, consisted of three hundred and forty-seven seats that were open to any working individual who receive sufficient number of nominations from the public during election period. Top-level ministry employees were automatically granted seats in the Wizengamot as well. Meanwhile, any legislation passed in the Wizengamot would be sent to the Senate, which had veto power only but operated by a different set of rules altogether. Seats in the Senate were inherited with the head-of-family status, passed from ancestors to descendants, and newcomers could only join with a supermajority vote from the current members. As Albus understood it, the Senate’s existence had been designed from the start to preserve the power of old families. Thus, there was never any real doubt as to who they would side with.

Albus had stayed silent on Bill E13 and permitted it to pass regardless, mainly because it had been necessary to prioritize and he knew that Umbridge’s atrocious werewolf law was a much greater threat to the welfare of society, especially when Voldemort still lies in wait. Immediately, that is. The long-term effects were much less cut-and-dry, but there would be time to deal with those later.

On the whole, it had not been unwise for either parties to establish their temporary alliance. However, for the duration of the entirety of his experience with politics, the dark-traditionalists generally did not attempt to bargain for exchanges of votes. They may have done it occasionally before the wars, perhaps, but never again since. What prompted them to do it now? Also surprising was the high number of political neutrals who voted with the dark-traditionalists on Bill E13. Those same neutrals had also voted against the Werewolf Bill, even though some of them should have been easy pickings for Dolores Umbridge. This worried him, because it indicated that these Wizengamot members may be no longer neutral.

Was this the dark-traditionalists’ goal? Did they expect to use this trade as a recruitment campaign? But what was the new galvanizing force? It could be that they’d simply grown bold, but this coupled with the dramatic shift in other aspects of their modus operandi suggested a development among their leadership. The neutrals who seem to have joined the dark-traditionalists generally had other ties to people such as Lucius. Some through business, some through… war. Except this did not feel like Tom’s style either. But then, who else? If there really was a new leader among the dark-traditionalists, then they were taking care not to make themselves known.

Now, the ministry business had finally settled down - only to be replaced by international politics with three governments and two headmasters. The Triwizard Cup was a highly notable bloom or blot on the hat of the school _and_ the country, and everybody would be watching.

The idea of restarting the Triwizard Tournament was not initially his. The French ministry of magic had proposed it to correct the face lost by years of less-than-ideal ratings on the French Duelling Tournament, but Albus had realized that if the tournament was to occur then it would be more useful at Hogwarts. This was mainly due to the fact that if the tournament was hosted anywhere else, then Hogwarts’ visiting team would have no place for students younger than seventeen.

After he was forced by circumstances to abort the trial for Harry Potter in the boy’s first year, he’d had concerns over whether Harry was prepared enough for the burden that awaited him. Especially since Harry’s second year had been rather quiet… However, the surprising friendship he’d forged with Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, and Blaise Zabini turned out to be remarkably significant. The way Harry handled the situation with Sirius and Peter in his third year also alleviated Albus’s worries.

Although Harry had not experienced an incrementally difficult series of real situations as Albus had initially planned for him, his strong interest in learning in a classroom or practice environment had paid off. In addition, although Harry had no real-world experience in combat, his critical thinking and analytical skills had certainly received no small amount of exercise. The teamwork and foresight shown by Harry and his friends at the end of their third year for example was impressively effective for a group of students. So effective, it had allowed the children to maintain an upper hand over an (initially) hostile adults throughout the whole exchange. Harry was not shaping up to be the boy he’d expected, but perhaps this would be acceptable as well.

What Harry needed most now was a little more exposure to combat from sources other than books. He would not put Harry in the tournament itself. The political backlash, for one, would be tremendous. However, with the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts, Harry could at least observe the trials, observe the spells, and interact with the prospective champions. From what he learned from watching the boy during the past two years, he was sure that Harry would make good use of the opportunity.

Albus popped another lemon drop into his mouth, and returned to work on helping the future unfold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing: Bellatrix Lestrange!


	3. Chapter 3

(Chapter 3)

“Sally! Good to see you again,” Remus Lupin waved with his free hand while roasting some marshmallows with the other, “How was summer? All those publicity events for the new Journal of a Wandering Mage book must have been some work.”

“Great, Professor Lupin,” Hermione smiled, “I’ve been busy.”

Her summer had been pleasantly eventful. For one, she’d managed to lead the dark-traditionalists to several victories and had gained much rapport among its more interesting members. With Bill E13 in place, a larger portion of public would gain exposure to previously obscure magic, which in turn serves as a critical first step to eroding the magical society’s fear of the unknown.

Meanwhile, the legalization of dark warding and the birth of the warding industry meant that stronger defences would be available to the general public in case of another war. Hermione expected that smart people with money to spend would move fast to seize investment opportunities in the new industry, and judging by the swiftly organized party it was evident that Mme. Greengrass realized it too. For many of the dark-traditionalists, it was simply a matter of making their private dealings public - minimal investment for incredible gain. Thus, the warding industry would understandably take flight quickly, producing warding specialists who could do a lot to keep homes safe from attack and more stores like her own to offer protective garments for every price range.

The Silver Spindle, of course, would be upping the ante as well in its enchantment services. Before returning her time-turner the year prior, Hermione had made sure to dedicate extra time to complete the training of ‘Sandra’s’ three most senior employees in enchanting and warding clothes. Mary, Timothy, and Alice had also taken her offer and each bought around 10% of the shares, becoming partners in the business and taking over the daily operation of the shop entirely. ‘Sandra’ herself would be effectively retiring, but not before “negotiating” a large investment. The money would come from Hermione’s vault, while the “silent partner” would receive 35% of the business in return. In exchange, the Spindle would receive capital to fund an expansion into a highly visible storefront in Horizon Alley and triple the number of shop workers to match the growth. It wouldn’t do to lose their position in the market, after all.

Meanwhile, politics and business aside, there had been yet another cause of excitement. Her conversation with the diary Horcrux, although somewhat … disastrous near the end, had shown that Tom was sentimental, proud of his magic, and liked to surround himself with proof of his superiority. This  suggested heirlooms as a likely candidate for Tom’s horcrux container, which lead Hermione to Little Hangleton in search of the resurrection stone that Master Cadmus Peverell had worked on for forty years of his life. Her investigation ultimately proved fruitful. She now had another one of Tom Riddle’s horcruxes eliminated by basilisk venom, as well as the knowledge that it was possible to destroy a horcrux without nullifying the original magical properties of the container. Unfortunately, the soul piece in the Stone _still_ wasn’t large enough to be all that was missing. It was frustrating.

And then, of course, there were the actual publicity events for Journal of a Wandering Mage, volume 2.

“I’ve read your book,” said Percy Weasley, “The way Stella used Fiendfyre to cleanse a curse was interesting. And the way she used the ice curse coupled with a wind spell in the next village when somebody else’s Fiendfyre got out of control was brilliant too. And that country she was trying to get to, Prydain, where wands are forbidden and everyone only does wandless magic - how do you even come up with something like that?”

“I’m glad you think so,” Hermione demurred, “It really took me a long time to put together those plots. And thanks again for inviting me to watch the games with you.”

All of them were currently sitting around Sirius Black’s tent in the designated campground at the Quidditch World Cup. The ex-Azkaban prisoner had of course wanted to enjoy his newfound freedom, and ordered top box tickets for himself, Lupin and Harry. Hermione herself had thought skimming over the competition results in the news would be enough for her, but then she’d received several letters from several Weasleys asking whether she’d like to have their spare family ticket courtesy of a connection. Apparently Fred and George had nominated her (“We wanted to invite Lee first, but Mum yelled at us and said no - can’t imagine why - so we asked for our other partner-in-crime instead. Everyone likes you for some reason... cough- goody-two-shoes - cough), and Mrs. Weasley had wanted Ginny to have more girls around for company.

“Kids these days, growing up so fast! I feel ashamed now,” said Sirius, “Back when I was your age I was busy pulling pranks and chasing ladies.”

“Good to see you again, Sirius.” Hermione had spoke with Sirius briefly at the Greengrass Ball following the passing of Bill E13. She knew him a little better now.

“You look much better than you did last year,” Ron told Sirius. With a summer to get over his shock, he’d also warmed up toward being Harry’s godfather. “You know, I’m surprised Fred and George aren’t worshipping at your feet right now. They wouldn’t shut up about the Marauders.”

(At the moment, the Weasley twins could be heard in the distance selling “fake wands! Two Galleons a piece! And other goodies too!” to a gaggle of excited children.)

“I don’t know if you can really pit curses against one another though,” remarked Arthur Weasley, “It sounds like a dangerous thing to play with.”

“I guess sometimes their effects cancel out. Some would even say that curses can be used in wards,” Sirius shrugged, “or so the dark-traditionalists would tell you.”

The younger members of their party were confused at the statement, but Charlie Weasley quickly brought them up to date. “Ah yes, Bill E13! I’ve read about that. Isn’t that the reason they’re promising us stronger dragon handling gears now?”

“Yes, but they’ve been very careful in the way they paint it to the public. Fundamentally it legalizes most forms of dark arts. I think they sold it as,” Sirius snorted, “more nuanced legislation for powerful magic, or some shit.”

“Well to be fair,” Percy commented judiciously, “it only allows dark arts to be applied passively and strictly for defense. You’re not allowed to use it in duels.”

“Are dark wards really that much stronger than normal ones?” Hermione deliberately asked.

“If you know what you’re doing, yes,” Sirius admitted. “I’m honestly a bit surprised at all the things they’re selling now. I mean, shielded robes that last a lifetime? Security trunks that are supposed to be so strong, they pretty much let people curse it however they want before they buy it? These really high quality ones cost a small fortune, mind, but I’m sure there’ll eventually be more basic ones that cost less.”

“Benefits there may be,” Arthur chewed the end of his marshmallow skewer thoughtfully, “but it looks like Malfoy’s people are really on a roll this past year and especially this summer. I mean, can you believe it? Dark arts is legal now. What’s next?”

Arthur was then pulled away from the conversation when he was greeted enthusiastically by an Indian wizard, who wanted to thank Arthur for lifting the embargo on magic carpet sales in the UK now that they were no longer prohibited under the Muggle Protection Act. It would be quite difficult to pass the original version of the Muggle Protection Act today, Hermione noted. If they tried, a lot of her fellow witches might be up in arms, for one.

So the light-progressive faction obviously wasn’t entirely comfortable with the new legislative change, but that was expected - and people weren’t outright hostile either, which was good news. People would come to accept it in time once they got used to it, just like they’d already gotten used to the idea of permanently enchanted objects.

As long as no disaster should happen in the meantime, they’d really made a solid step forward in her long-term plans to have the dark arts used and treated as they should: with respect, consideration, ethics, and as a tool to make lives better. It would be a welcoming of potential, and hopefully a trigger to a time of progress. A renaissance, of a sort.

“Guys! Look what we’ve got! This one actually flies!” Ginny suddenly burst out of the crowd of merchants, gawkers, and excited Quidditch fans with a figurine of the Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum in her palm and another girl in tow. “This is Luna Lovegood, by the way. She’s in my year.”

“Hello, everyone,” said Luna, somewhat airily, “My daddy and I have been here for a week already, but daddy says I can stay over at Ginny’s tent tonight.” The platinum blond girl was projecting a dream-like sort of image about her, Hermione noticed curiously, as if she was in a higher plane of existence. For a second Hermione marvelled at her choice of persona, but then it began to seem entirely possible that Luna was always like that.

“I think we should best be off to the stadium now that everyone’s here,” Lupin, ever the responsible one, got to his feet, and everybody followed him through the woods to a gigantic stadium. Hermione wouldn’t deny that it was grand, especially once they’d climbed to their gold gilded seats in the top box. It was empty at the moment, save for themselves and a terrified-looking house elf.

“Dobby!” Harry exclaimed upon seeing the elf, before correcting himself. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“It’s alright, sir,” the elf squeaked, “my name is Winky, sir.”

“It’s good to meet you, Winky,” said Harry. Winky nodded gratefully, but looked down and gulped again. Did her masters frighten her so much even when they were not present? Or was it the … oh. Probably the height.

“Why are you here, Winky?” Hermione asked, curious.

“Master asks Winky to save him a seat, miss. He is very busy. But Winky wishes it does not have to be so high up... but Winky does what she is told.”

That rather stroked Hermione’s curiosity rather than quelled it, but Winky looked so miserable covering her eyes that Hermione decided not to disturb her further. Besides, she wasn’t seated all that close.

As the box filled, Mr. Weasley shook hands with many people, and Hermione recognized most of them as the heads of various departments in the Ministry. Percy was quite keen to impress today, standing for almost everybody who entered and bowing so low for Fudge that his glasses fell. Fudge, for his part, greeted Harry and Sirius like old friends, and almost seemed to tip-toe around Sirius after the erroneous manhunt last year. Harry, of course, was the Boy-who-lived.

“Harry Potter,” Fudge was loudly trying to introduce Harry to the Bulgarian Minister, who didn’t seem to understand him very well, “Harry Potter . . . oh come on now, you know who he is . . . the boy who survived You-Know-Who . . . you do know who he is — Yes. Knew we’d get there eventually. Ah, and here’s Lucius!”

“Ah, Fudge, how are you?” Lucius Malfoy greeted, and introduced his wife and son to the Minister.

“How do you do? How do you do?” said Fudge, smiling and bowing, “and allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk, Mr. Oblansk - well, he can’t understand a word I’m saying, so nevermind. And I dare say you know Arthur and Sirius?”

Arthur and Lucius greeted each other cooly but politely while Narcissa and Sirius did the same. Though estranged, they were still cousins.

Draco looked like he was caught between a rock and a hard place. He didn’t want to offend Harry and Hermione, but his parents may raise eyebrows if he acted too friendly. In the end he settled for a small smile and said nothing.

But Lucius’s eyes did eventually land on Hermione, who smiled. “It’s good to meet you again, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy. Hello, Draco.”

“Miss Granger,” Lucius simply nodded with a rather blank expression, surprising Sirius, the Weasleys, and Draco most of all.

“Wha-” Ginny mouthed at her from the end of the row when she caught Hermione’s eye, but then Ludo Bagman came in and announced the start of the final of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup.

The crowd cheered and applauded. The advertisements cleared to reveal the gigantic scoreboard in golden letters.

“Ahh, this is just like the good old days,” Sirius slouched and draped an arm carelessly over the back of his seat, “ain’t it ‘Cissy?”

Narcissa made a noncommittal noise.

“Ha, stuck up as ever,” Sirius grumbled.

Hermione did not have to look back to feel the dubious warmth in the Malfoy’s attitude drop by a degree. But it turned out that Sirius knew exactly where his cousin’s limits were. While Hermione contemplated ways to discreetly reach over and poke him, Sirius made a few more jibes and stopped.

“I wonder what the Bulgarian mascot will be?” said Arthur Weasley in a valiant attempt to break up the awkward silence that ensued.

Amazingly, it worked. Ron and Charlie threw out some wild guesses. Draco smugly told them that he _knew_ what the mascots would be, and that they’ll be “awesome”. Narcissa hissed at Draco disapprovingly. Lucius said something about how she hovers over Draco too much.

Sirius started to make another jibe at Narcissa, but was distracted by the squad of dancing Veela coming on to the field.

The fact that the Bulgarian team had brought veela as their “mascots” quickly made itself known to just about all of the stadium as spectators everywhere began to get out of their seats under their influence. Hermione held Harry and Ron back, preventing them from embarrassing themselves in front of some very important people, but in the tier of seats just below she could see young men trying to climb over the railings before the dancing stopped. Hermione looked on sympathetically. At least _she_ wasn’t in their shoes.

But this observation itself triggered a line of questions that she was very reluctant to think about and had admittedly been putting off...

As someone who had lived a lifetime as a man, it was not unreasonable at all to expect that she would experience some attraction to what was supposed to be the paragon of female beauty… but no. But then again, she was sure she’d met several veela as Salazar (although they hadn’t explicitly declared their race), and he didn’t feel anything for them back then either. Would that mean she’d always favoured men, then? She had literally _no_ idea, but it would make things a lot simpler... except that didn’t fit quite right either. In her first life, Salazar had on countless occasions seen soldiers in various states of undress during barracks inspections, so if he really did swing that way surely he would have noticed? So… now what? What did it all mean for her now?

Oh look, the Irish brought leprechauns. However did they manage to find so many leprechauns to assemble this display, and convince them all to come perform? They’re quite solitary from what she’d heard, and notorious tricksters too. Ahem.

The game began with Ireland in possession of the Quaffle. Bulgaria managed to steal it twice momentarily, but failed to prevent Troy from scoring the first goal for the Irish. “Wow!” Draco exclaimed in the row behind them, “That was some recovery after the Porskoff Ploy got foiled!”

“Yeah!” Harry turned around as Troy did a victory lap around the stadium, “And that was a nice hit by Volkov too.”

The game resumed. Hermione didn’t know much about Quidditch, but the general consensus during the animated discussions on the train seemed to be that Ireland had the better Chasers, while Bulgaria had the better Beaters. Then, of course, there was Krum.

The crowd gasped as the two Seekers suddenly began a steep dive at breakneck speed. “Probably a feint,” Draco commented two seconds in, and turned out to be correct when Lynch crashed into the ground painfully.

“How d’you know?” Charlie Weasley asked curiously as the game paused so that mediwizards could check on Lynch. Ludo Bagman turned around too. He looked slightly impressed.

“Not telling,” Draco smirked and threw a significant look at Harry, who shrugged.

“Fair enough.”

“Have Quidditch World Cups always been this exciting?” Hermione asked Sirius.

Sirius, who was always easy enough to draw into a conversation, quickly began to reminisce. “Oh the one in 1974 was hilarious! I was about your age then. James and I portkeyed over to Australia nice and early and camped out at the stadium during the quarterfinals. Madagascar’s Chasers were brilliant! But Syria got to the snitch first and won the game. The buffoon who organized the thing tried to ban all wands from the stadium, can you believe that? But of course nobody was putting up with his bullshit, so everybody hid their wands in these dissimulator things and blew it in his face when he finally showed up. Andy made hers blow up a literal raspberry. And the look on his face! I think that must’ve been the only time Bella and I agreed on something. Remember, ‘Cissy?”

“I remember the 1974 games, yes,” Narcissa agreed.

“I visited Andy just the other day. She’s still a Black, you know. Cygnus may have disowned her from the immediate family, but he’s not allowed by the rules to remove her from the Black family altogether. Her daughter’s doing well - she’s an Auror now. Andy’s doing well too.”

Narcissa Malfoy and Andromeda Tonks didn’t talk to each other much, Hermione gathered.

“I see,” said Narcissa stiffly, but then she hesitated. “And how is Bella?”

Visitation to Azkaban was terribly difficult to secure, especially when one’s own husband was trying to avoid connections to the incarcerated Death Eaters inside. But it was clear that Narcissa still cared.

“How is Bella?” Sirius laughed, “same as ever. Still screaming and moaning for her ‘lord’ all day. Not that I would know if it was all day. No sunlight in there, see.”

“Isn’t it great to remember our childhood adventures?” enthused Fudge, who was very much interested in diverting the conversation away from Azkaban, “I remember when I was in school. I was a real bookworm back then. Always getting kicked out of the library for staying too late, that’s me.”

“A less studious wizard wouldn’t have done so well in power,” Percy interjected quickly, “I got kicked out of the library a lot too, er, for staying too late, that is.”

“Ah thank you - Percy, was it?” Fudge looked relieved.

Percy beamed. “I’m starting work in the Ministry this year too, Minister Fudge, in Mr. Crouch’s department. I’m a part of the project to standardize cauldron thickness. It’s great to be a part of something larger than myself, working to improve public safety...”

“Very good work. I might throw in a good word or two for you,” murmured Fudge distractedly. Percy had done him a service by helping him change the topic, but now he was straining an ear to keep track of the others’ conversation.

“Does your niece who is an Auror go by the name Nymphadora Tonks?” Hermione asked Sirius again. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Fudge finally settling back into his seat and turning his attention to Percy. “I think I remember seeing her at Hogwarts.”

“Yes, she would’ve graduated during your first year. But don’t let her catch you calling her Nymphadora! Mad-Eye Moody is the only one who dares, and it drives her crazy.”

Hermione had been hoping to get Sirius to draw either Lucius or Narcissa into the conversation again, but her attention was caught on the name Moody. “Mad-Eye Moody? As in Alastor Moody, the retired Auror who’s something of a legend? I thought he was, well, retired.” Alastor Moody had been one of the best fighters in the previous war, and responsible for nearly half of all Death Eater arrests. She would be surprised if Albus Dumbledore had not tried to recruit Moody into his secret group.

“He is,” Sirius confirmed, “but apparently he still hangs around to give advice to the trainees. Just can’t stay away, in my opinion. He says he’s doing Professor Dumbledore a favour, keeping his students alive.”

“Sounds like he’s good friends with the headmaster,” Hermione prompted.

“Oh yes, they are. And -”

Whatever Sirius would’ve said went unfinished when a loud cheer rose from the Irish section of the stadium. By now, the Irish Seeker Lynch had finally recovered enough to resume the game. The referee, Mostafa, gave Ireland a penalty shot when the Bulgarian Keeper fouled their Chaser. Then came a little gaffe where Mostafa got seduced by the dancing veela and had to be kicked in the shin, then tried to send the veela off the field. The Bulgarian Beaters came down to argue with him. Mostafa gave Ireland another penalty shot when they wouldn’t get back into the air.

The rest of the match was even more brutal. Bulgaria fouled Ireland again and was punished for it. The leprechauns made a very rude gesture at the veela, who furiously transformed into harpies and started throwing fire across the field. The Irish Beaters broke Krum’s nose with a Bludger, but it seemed that Lynch had spotted the snitch before Mostafa could call a time-out. The seekers raced to the Snitch, but Krum was faster and Lynch slammed into the ground again.

It was not enough to secure a victory for Bulgaria, however. Ireland won by ten points.

“They’ll be talking about this one forever,” Sirius laughed as the the Bulgarian team made their way up the stairs to the box.

“Yeah!” Ron agreed, “Krum is brilliant!”

Everybody cheered for the Bulgarian team - especially Krum - and the Irish team as they shook hands one by one with Fudge and Minister Oblansk. Saying goodbye to Draco and the Malfoys, the Weasleys and Sirius’s group followed the crowd out of the stadium, met up with Luna Lovegood (and the excitable Xenophilius Lovegood), and trekked back to Sirius’s tent. It was the largest of their temporary dwellings and could accommodate more people.

“Sirius, you were saying something about Moody and Professor Dumbledore being friends earlier?” Hermione asked just as they were getting settled in around the tent’s spacious “living room” for hot cocoa.

“Right! I was going to say, Moody’s doing another favour for the headmaster this year,” Sirius smirked at the children around the room, “he’s agreed to be your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for a year until Remus goes back. Ha - you lot are in for a _very_ fun term.”

“Alastor would be a good teacher,” said Arthur. “He’ll be very strict, but you’ll learn things. Now children, perhaps we should be off to bed soon.”

Nobody listened. Harry, Ron, and Ginny were doing a verbal replay of the whole match. Arthur himself got drawn into an argument with Sirius and Charlie about cobbing, the offense that had gotten Bulgaria penalized with a foul. Fred and George were commenting on whichever conversation they happened to pick up while counting all the Galleons and order forms they made before the game today. Even Percy was far too excited to go to sleep. “I had a whole conversation with the Minister today!” he exclaimed to Hermione happily, “He said he’s impressed with my diligence and that he’d look out for me in the future -  The Minister of Magic! What an honour!”

“Congratulations,” Hermione toasted to him with her mug, “here’s to your flourishing career at the Ministry,”

“Minister Fudge is a very powerful man. It’s good that you have his favours,” nodded Luna. “He’s got a secret army of Heliopaths, you know. And you’d be surprised at what he does to goblins in order to take over Gringotts. They call him Goblin-Crusher.”

Looking at Luna’s serene face, Hermione found that she actually couldn’t tell if Luna was being sarcastic or not. She would be inclined to assume the former, but she really wasn’t sure.

Percy instantly looked affronted. “No, Luna, Minister Fudge would never do that! We shouldn’t say such things about an upstanding leader of our society!”

“Hmm. That’s true,” Luna agreed airily, “if only because he made it that way. He who controls a secret army of Heliopaths can mold the truth however he wishes.”

“Luna, the Minister does not have an army of Heliopaths!”

“Right!” said Arthur, “Off to bed, all of you!”

Finally shooed out of Sirius’s tent, the children chattered as they made their way back to their lot. Ginny, Luna, and Hermione obediently shuffled into their tent to turn in for the night. It was smaller than the boys’ tent, but still more than spacious for the three of them. Hermione and Ginny each chose a top bunk. Luna, meanwhile, immediately started to demonstrate the springiness of the mattresses by bouncing on the two bottom bunks from one bed to the other.

“That was fun,” Ginny sighed happily, staring up at the roof, “Who would’ve thought? Ireland wins but Krum catches the snitch. But I guess it almost happened with the Gryffindor-Slytherin game last year, didn’t it?”

“I think so,” said Luna, “The clouds were very pretty that day. At least until the Dementors came.”

“Anyways, Viktor flew amazingly,” Ginny went on, “but I think he looks cooler in the air than in the top box up close...”

“He did look more at ease on a broom,” Hermione agreed, “although to be fair, he can’t be looking his best if he’s just had his nose broken.”

“Maybe,” Luna hummed, “but Ginny prefers Harry, don’t you?”

“Luna! I don’t fancy him!”

“Really? But I thought you told me you thought he was the - “

“Okay, maybe a little!” Ginny yelped, blushing scarlet. “You won’t tell him, would you, Sally? Please?”

“I won’t, not unless you want me to,” Hermione promised. “It’s not as if I’d know what you should do anyways.”

“I don’t understand why you’re worried,” a note of confusion entered Luna’s airy voice, “If I like someone, I’d just tell them.”

Hermione silently adjusted her assessment of Luna. That attitude of hers! Definitely something to watch out for if they’d be seeing any more of each other in the future.

“You do you, Luna,” mumbled Ginny, “but if I catch either of you blabbing I swear …”

“Okay,” said Luna pleasantly, “goodnight, Ginny!”

“G’night Luna,”

“Goodnight Sally!”

“Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do we think of Hermione's thoughts on Veela? 
> 
> Introducing Luna!


	4. Chapter 4

It transpired that tonight was not to be a good night after all.

Hermione blinked awake in the darkness to the sound of muffled shouting outside. Quickly cancelling her sleeping wards and clambering down the ladder, she peeked through the slit between the tent flaps to try and find out what the commotion was.

“Isn’t it rather loud?” asked Luna.

“Wus’ happenin’?” Ginny groaned.

The unfortunate answer to that question was that a crowd of former Death Eaters had decided it would be fun to play with the muggle campsite manager’s family! Although there were only a dozen or so in masks, more and more wizards were joining them still - jeering and laughing drunkenly at the spectacle on exhibit and setting more than a few tents on fire. Terrified people were running left and right to get away from the marchers. Ministry officials looked to be trying to break up the crowd to little effect.

“... this is a disaster!” Hermione blinked with growing horror.

“Girls, you’ve got to leave - quickly!” Mr. Weasley came sprinting toward their tent. Hermione summoned her bag and beckoned the others out. Harry and Ron were already outside, staring at the scene with horror. “Go hide in the woods!”

Arthur and the older Weasley brothers sprinted off toward the marchers. “C’mon,” Hermione tugged at Ginny and Luna. They ran for the trees, but ended up being pushed this way and that by everybody else who had the same idea. “Let’s go! Hurry!” Fred urged.

“I’ve lost my wand!” Ginny shouted.

Everyone stopped to help her look, to no avail.

“Hey,” George looked around, “where are the others? Where’s Harry and Ron?”

“They must’ve kept walking. Let’s keep going forward. We’ll have the best chance of finding them up ahead.”

“I wonder where Daddy is,” said Luna.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” George reassured tensely, “those are just drunks out there. Just get out of their way and they’ll forget all about you.”

All around them, pandemonium continued. Hermione rubbed her temples.

They didn’t come across the boys or Mr. Lovegood further along the path. Hermione sent up the Nocturne Group’s spark code once in awhile and told the others to watch the sky, but there were no replies yet. She wished they wouldn’t have to wander around the woods for much longer. The sooner she could get some time to herself, the sooner she could join the dark-traditionalists’ discussions on how they were going to weather this political hailstorm.

This was exactly the kind of disaster that would upset all they’d accomplished this year. Many people were already uneasy about the chain of new legislations in favour of the dark arts. Hermione would bet her whole fortune that tomorrow they’d be lobbying for Bill E13 to be revoked. When that failed, they’d riot for the Senate to be dissolved. The drunken marchers were most likely people of no significant influence unlike their more calculating, politically active ex-colleagues, but they had landed the dark-traditionalists into a tricky situation. If not handled right, the Senate may end up agreeing to retract Bill E13 and land them back where they started. Or they may find all their future plans blocked by impossible opposition.

But disasters were not without opportunities either. The appearance of Death Eater robes today would likely result in some fracturing of established alliances among the dark-traditionalists. The ex-Death Eaters would prioritize making arrangements to save themselves above discussing the shared political agendas. Meanwhile, the cleaner families may be considering whether to throw the “imperiused” death eaters to the wolves … or the press. And in the chaos, all the better for S to strengthen her influence over them.

“Look! Sparks!” Luna pointed northeast. Indeed, a green spark appeared over the treetops. “Is that Harry’s signal?”

Green meant ‘no danger’, so at least that was good news. Hermione sent up her own query signal, and read the chain of green sparks that rose up in response. “He says he’s safe and in a clearing that way. Let’s go,”

They jogged in the direction of the sparks. But just when the trees looked to be thinning out, a loud boom sounded. Another burst of green light shot into the sky, forming a very different signal.

“That… wasn’t us.” Hermione looked up at the Dark Mark hanging over the clearing where her friends were, and broke into a run.

They arrived at the clearing to find twenty or so wizards trying to stun Harry and Ron. Some of those wands immediately turned on them upon their arrival.

“We’re all friends here!” Hermione shouted and held up her hands, having recognized some of the faces.

“Ron - Harry-” Mr. Weasley emerged from the group of new arrivals. He looked terrified. “Are you lot alright?”

“Out of the way, Arthur!” snapped Bartemius Crouch, “Which of you cast the Dark Mark?”

“It wasn’t us,” said Harry, pointing at the trees behind him, “somebody else shouted a word from over there.”

Incredibly, Crouch was still of the opinion that a group of children were responsible for the dark mark. Everybody else turned their attention to the trees, however, watching anxiously as Amos Diggory went into the woods to check in case the culprit had been stunned by luck. When he returned with an unconscious Winky, there was a collective gasp from the adults.

“Winky is not casting the mark!” squeaked the elf upon being rennervated and questioned, “Winky is not knowing how!”

But her audience was divided on whether they believed her or not. Arthur Weasley was sympathetic, but Amos Diggory insisted that Winky’s guilt was proven by the wand she had in her hand. Then there was some bickering when Ginny realized that the wand was hers, but fortunately most people agreed that accusing a child of casting the Dark Mark was even more ridiculous than accusing an elf.

Throughout the interrogation, Bartemius Crouch asked surprisingly little. Forgetting his former zeal when he was interrogating Harry and Ron, he merely looked on coolly as Winky blinked up at him with teary eyes. It was only when Amos Diggory wanted to take Winky back to his department for questioning that he finally stepped in and told Diggory to waive the punishment - because freeing Winky would be punishment enough.

Winky immediately threw herself at Crouch’s feet, but Crouch pulled away disgustedly. Hermione’s curiosity was piqued again.

She did believe from watching the elf that Winky was genuine in her loyalty to Crouch. Crouch’s silence during the interrogation strongly suggested that he knew at least a part of what had happened. Winky deliberately omitted some details in her testimony to protect him - at great risk to herself. Crouch took pity on her and saved her from the Ministry tribunal… but his reaction and his dismissal of the elf suggested that she’d still failed him somehow. She wondered what really happened here. A rogue former Death Eater casting the dark mark was one thing, but the involvement of Mr. Tough-On-Crime Bartemius Crouch was another thing altogether.

Hermione knelt down beside Winky - who had curled into a miserable ball on the ground with tears streaming down her face - and gathered the wailing elf into a hug.

“We know you’re a good elf, Winky. You really cared and you tried your best, and that’s really all anybody could ask from you. I’m sure you’ll find another nice family to work for,” Hermione lowered her voice to a whisper, rubbing gentle circles on the elf’s back, “look, if you don’t find a home, you can always come and live with me. We can redo the ritual, promise. Just look for Hermione Granger,”

“Hermione, let’s go!” called Arthur Weasley.

Hermione obediently followed the group back to the (thankfully still intact) tents. While Ginny and Luna tried to catch a few more hours of sleep before the scheduled portkey back to the Burrow, Hermione fished her special two-way parchment out of her bottomless bag and began to compose her letters. The portkey would leave in five hours, which meant she had exactly five hours to persuade everyone to follow her plan. It was already well past anybody’s bedtime but she highly doubted that anyone in the dark-traditionalist faction would be sleeping tonight.

No rest for the wicked after all.

\---

Lucius had been entertaining the Minister when the utter morons decided to get drunk and give the collective skeletons in their closets a good airing.

It had honestly taken him a minute to appreciate that this was really happening, but it took him only a minute more to grab Narcissa and Draco and apparate home. Leaving the task of explaining to Draco what was going on to Narcissa, Lucius instead apparated again straight to the front steps of Nott Manor.

Lucius pounded on the door, none-too-gently, until a sleepy house-elf finally came out to answer. “What in Salazar’s name is the emergency, Lucius?” grumbled Tristan Nott when he appeared in the entrance hall, nightgown-clad.

“McNair and some other idiots decided that the public feels too comfortable with us. They started a revel at the Quidditch Cup in their infinite wisdom.”

“What? Did they think they're kings just because they're not rotting in a cell? Imagine the public backlash!”

“This is going to be very tedious, yes,” muttered Lucius. Any fool would know that public opinion was important for good business. Why else in Salazar’s name would he spend so much on donations, if not to buy goodwill? Now that some trollbrains decided to remind everybody again that there were Death Eaters walking free, he must control the damage quickly.

“It's a shame. We were making such good progress with Bill E13,” said Nott.

“Forget politics, Tristan! Greengrass is looking after that well enough.” Probably too well, in fact. Though they'd worked excellently together for almost fifteen years, Lucius wasn't naive enough to think Greengrass incapable of throwing former Death Eaters to the wolves to save the dark-traditionalists political movement as a whole. “We need to look after ourselves.”

“I agree,” nodded Nott, already laying out parchment and quills to make plans, “it's just unfortunate.” It would not be wise to rely on Greengrass or any other war-neutrals for assistance - which made things all the more complicated because Greengrass controlled the media. But between himself and Nott and their more... loyal connections combined, Lucius reckoned they could still pull up enough influence to get themselves by. If he publicly offered to petition the senate to re-evaluate Bill E13, he’d be able to play up his image as a concerned victim and distinguish himself from the marchers in the public eye. He’d need the others to make sure that Greengrass finds it more costly and risky to side against them than not - but not too many. His ploy would lose effectiveness the more it is copied? And in the Senate itself… well, Greengrass would certainly have immense trouble gathering the three-quarter supermajority she’d need to outright evict him from the Senate, but he’d definitely want Nott on his side. Just in case -

Lucius and Tristan jumped back as a flash of something silver burst out of thin air before their eyes - but before they’d even raised their wands it was gone, leaving behind only... two rolled letters?

“Shouldn’t be too dangerous,” muttered Nott, opening the two rolls of what looks to be fine parchment and laying them flat, “wards wouldn’t have let them in otherwise. Looks like they’re identical. One for each of us?”

Lucius craned his neck to look, and found himself staring at handwriting that he was slowly starting to recognize.

_‘Venerable Madams and Messieurs, we have a problem._

_If you have not yet been informed, a group of former Death Eaters have started a riot tonight by torturing muggles and destroying magical property in plain sight. Public suspicion of those in our circles will be at its highest since the war. There will be accusations, and there will be threats. All the more important for us to present a united front, my friends._

_The last thing we want is for a hype of fanatic persecutions to develop, and we must not feed it ourselves by pointing fingers. Regardless of our true wartime affiliations, all of us look guilty in the eyes of zealots. The public has already proven with Ven. Mr. Black’s ordeal that it is willing to err on the side of “caution”. We may all face a hard fall if persecutions manages to gain momentum, or even merely start._

_We must not allow public calls for the reopening of old cases to gain results. I suggest we demonstrate our goodwill by assisting with the investigation of the riot in good faith and enable the perpetrators to be found (even if we will subsequently need to see that they are convicted for their most recent infraction only). Re-opening Death Eater trials is counter-productive to us, but those who continue to attack society and our common interests should wisely be prepared to face the consequences of their decisions._

_What do you think, Lucius? Tristan? And you, Alessandra? How about you, Dawlish? I expect the aurors have already assigned investigative work for tomorrow morning?’_

The messages were written on multi-way parchment, Lucius realized. Of course.

Below the gently sloping calligraphy that Lucius now knew was from S with certainty, another line of words was appearing: _‘They have, starting at daybreak unfortunately. Shall I suppose this is going to take all night? John Dawlish’_

“Is everyone reading this?” Nott muttered, pulling one of the letters to himself and scribbling back, _‘Sleep is hardly the worst thing to sacrifice for an emergency plan. A more concerning matter is what else might be sacrificed tonight. I am naturally in support of presenting a united front and co-operating to shut down calls for retrials and focusing public attention on action taken to identify tonight’s marchers. I agree that in today’s climate, even innocents are not above suspicion. Tristan Nott’_

There was a pause, before Alessandra Greengrass’s neat, rounded cursive appeared _‘Since you put it so emphatically, S, I shall have to follow Tristan in agreeing to a united front. I am willing to do my part in discouraging public paranoia and ministry attempts to reopen old Death Eater trials. After all, we are allies in business, legislation, and our belief in traditionalist values, are we not? I also agree to support efforts to apprehend the participants of tonight’s riot at the Quidditch World Cup. Normally we may be inclined to lend a hand to old classmates for old time’s sakes, but in a crisis as severe as now we cannot afford to look out for those who obstruct our common interests. Alessandra Greengrass’_

Lucius compared his parchment with Nott’s again. Judging by the responses so far, everyone was seeing identical messages from S as well as full responses from one another. The parchment could be trusted, it seemed. And if Lucius was correct in his guess of what S was trying to accomplish by organizing this discussion… well, he supposed it was a strategy.

_‘If everyone else is also in agreement with our general strategy for repairing public relations, then let us discuss the details of our plan. Regarding the media, I propose that we dedicate maximum resources to:_

  * _Increase the association of the dark-traditionalist political movement with our more war-neutral members_
  * _Publicize the use of Dark Arts by respected and celebrated wizards throughout history_
  * _Publicly demonstrate support for the Aurors in their duty to persecute the rioters. This must be done by every one of us._
  * _Following the completion of 3, replace the media’s attention with another topic and allow the public to forget about the appearance of Death Eater robes._



 

_…’_

It did indeed take hours to finalize who can be relied upon to do what, and for everyone to be assured that all promises would be kept. By the time S bid them goodnight, it was nearly dawn. Lucius tried to suppress a yawn in the most dignified manner he could.

“What a way to spend a night,” said Tristan, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “But at least now we know something about our mysterious friend S. Or at least, I think we do?”

Lucius nodded. It was incredible to think about, but up to now they’d basically been working with a faceless entity. The only things they’d known about S was a motivation to resurrect the dark arts and traditionalist values. Now, by orchestrating this meeting and this highly … considerate plan, Lucius wondered if they’d been given a glimpse into some of their shadowy friend’s other motivations. Those would in turn, perhaps, shed some light on just who in Salazar’s name they were writing to all this time.

Lucius did not doubt that what S had made them all agree to do would be sufficient in rescuing both the political movement and the individuals, but the funny thing was, _S’s new plan was by no means the most advantageous course of action for anybody_ . Yet, it was announced in such a way that it _became_ everybody’s best option afterwards. The war neutrals could have probably saved quite a bit of face, effort and owed favours by simply denouncing their less innocent acquaintances - after all, Lucius had done exactly that himself during his Death Eater trial. Unfortunately for them, that strategy had become much less appealing now that S had basically shown all the former Death Eaters a way to get revenge for any PR betrayals - and at the same time made sure that everyone knew that she had.

(At the same time, none of Lucius’s connections would follow him and risk becoming cannon fodder now that a more reliable alternative has been created, which meant that he’d have to play along too.)

Which raised the question, just how did S stand to gain in this? On the whole, the former Death Eaters among their circles clearly benefited from the new plan more than the war-neutrals, merely trading risk for risk while people like Greengrass now had to take on more work and call on more favours for little personal return. Would this imply that S was … a work friend rather than a school friend?

But if that was the case, then why waste time setting up the meeting while all their other former comrades plotted away? Unless S had some Death Eater affiliations that no one had known or suspected previously. Lucius thought that made sense for a motive. How else would someone in that position get help with preemptively covering their tracks without exposing the exact thing they were trying to hide?

Lucius felt like chuckling at that realization. He was hardly close to putting a name to the single-letter monogram, but he actually had a handle on S now. Their future correspondence could be interesting.

Like everyone else who received a letter that night, Lucius was lost in thought as he went home to prepare for the morning.

\-------------------

“My lord? It’s done.” Inside the abandoned manor where the Riddle family once lived, Bartemius Crouch Jr. addressed the coiled serpent that was his master.

The green triangular head lifted, and Barty suddenly felt a dull but familiar pain in the back of his head. He could not object, however. His master had freed him from a lifetime of enslavement under his father’s spell, and hosting his Lord in his head from time to time was the least he could do to express his gratitude. The snake meanwhile shuddered, but did not make a fuss.

 _‘I am surprise that Nagini still lives. This one has lasted the longest yet. Perhaps I shall keep her.’_ Lord Voldemort’s sibilant voice hissed in his mind. ‘ _You’ve brought me a servant?’_

Barty looked at the muggle that had followed him into the room obediently, persuaded by a firm imperious curse. He was the gardener and caretaker of the manor - healthy, fit, a bit on the old side, but if it had not hindered his duties before then it would not now. The fact that he could not do magic was irrelevant, really. His Lord could do enough magic for the both of them, even in this state.

_‘Acceptable, Bartimeus. He will replace you here. Now you will aid me in building a body. Then, you may move forward with our plan.’_

“Yes, my Lord!”  


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s a shame we didn’t see each other at the Quidditch World Cup, girls,” Daphne was saying as she flicked through the racks. Her family had opted to apparate straight to the stadium rather than join the camping craze. A wise decision, as it had turned out.

“We stayed in our tent most of the time,” said Lavender while staring intently at the mirror, “It was fun… except that riot at the end. That was scary!”

“The papers are still talking about it,” Parvati pointed at a nearby stand. The front page today read, _‘Origin of Quidditch World Cup riot located. Executioner McNair wanted for questioning.’_ “It’s a good thing they managed to get the campsite booking records from the muggles and use it to trace the path of the mob.”

“I’m just glad they’re arresting somebody. If he really used to be a Death Eater, so much the better,” pouted Lavender, “Say, d’you think I should get the yellow dress or the purple one?”

“I vote purple. It matches your name. What do you think of the minister’s last statement near the end of that article though? Something about ‘looking forward to the next showcase of British talent’.” said Hermione. “And would that have anything to do with why we’re shopping for dress gowns?”

She’d been in Diagon Alley today for some errands, but then she’d came across the girls and somehow got persuaded to join them on their mission to find a “spectacular dress” to bring to school this year. Hermione had saw the requirement for a ball gown in the annual Hogwarts letter and had thought it rather odd, but then Daphne had said something about expecting reporters to show up. Considering that her blond friend would have more dependable information on that kind of things than anybody, Hermione had decided it would be wise to follow her lead.

She had to wonder what the occasion was though. It was obvious that some sort of public spectacle was expected to occur, but everyone in the know seemed to be encouraging the rumours instead of offering up real information. If it had anything to do with the fourth recommendation she’d made to her allies then they had certainly outdone themselves. If not, Hermione wasn’t complaining either.

Hopefully it would all help the whole World Cup fiasco blow over like dust in the wind...

“He’s deliberately leading people on, isn’t he?” Daphne agreed, setting down a sequined scarlet dress and picking up a silky white one, “You’re right, I think it has something to do with what’s going to happen at school this year too. Shows how he’s really not worried about the fallout of the Quidditch Cup riot if he’s already thinking about promoting the next thing.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any real reason to panic,” said Parvati with an armful of taffeta and satin, “My dad thinks it’s just somebody’s awful idea of a practical joke - but we weren’t there when it happened, mind, so we didn’t see how bad it really was and how much was just rumours. But still, the ministry said nobody got seriously injured, didn’t they? ...Have you found nothing to try, Sal? We’ve been through half of Horizon Alley! How about this one? I think it’ll look good on you.”

Hermione appraised the flowy pale green fabric and the dropped shoulders. “Ethereal like a fairy! But I think it’ll suit Daphne better. What do you think?”

“Wow, nice pick, ladies!” Daphne snatched up the green dress at once. “I think I’ll go try this one on right now.”

Lavender laughed. “Five sickles say she’s going to keep it. Well, it said in the news that nobody got hurt so bad that a few spells couldn’t fix the injury, but a lot of people’s stuff got destroyed. I don’t think people would be so calm about it if the ministry hadn’t offered to pay everyone for the damage. My mum was surprised that the ministry even _had_ so much money. There must’ve been hundreds of tents there!”

“Well, I’d reckon that a few generous people probably offered to loan the money until they catch the culprit,” Hermione smirked, “Although, it sounds like McNair and whoever else they find are going to have to cough up a fortune now to pay everyone back.”

“Serves him right,” said Parvati distractedly, “Hmm, I think I might like one of these three, but I just can’t decide! But maybe I’ll wear something traditional instead. I’ll come back later.”

“I wish we could’ve found something for you too, Sal,” Daphne said as they made their way back with their new purchases. “Oh look, it’s sunny in the Spindle today.”

Hermione glanced at the ‘sunshine meadow’-themed display and silently praised the Spindle team’s window-dressing skills again. One good thing about the expansion of the Silver Spindle into Horizon Alley, she noted happily, was that one could now take a shortcut to the depth of Horizon Alley by walking through the portal that joined the two halves of the shop together. It produced some traffic for the shop and, as a bonus, it was saving her a lot of steps today. “I think I might just end up wearing an old dress. The one I wore to your party last year didn’t look half bad.”

“But that’s boring!” frowned Daphne, “don’t you want something stunning to stand out?”

“What’s the point of trying to stand out if I’m just going to be compared with you guys?” Hermione laughed, “I mean, on the one side, there’ll be you and your green dress. On the other side there’ll be Lavender who will probably be trying to dance with all the boys.”

“Only the cute ones,” grinned Lavender unabashedly.

“See? It’s no use, I tell you - Oh, look,”

It was just as they were about to cross the portal to the Diagon Alley half of the store that Hermione saw a deep crimson-rose gown on one of the mannequins. The layers of chiffon on the floor-length skirt were clearly cut to like petals, floating supported by what she suspected was a very clever use of repulsion charms. In contrast, the bodice was sculpted with capped shoulders and a portrait neckline. Well, there were still pins and needles in it where Alice was still putting the dress together, but the effect was there.

“You want that one, don’t you!” nudged Daphne knowingly.

Hermione honestly decided that she wanted the dress. She’d like to think she was doing this to leverage the Hogwarts event and get publicity for her shop, but if the real motivation was a small part of her that just wanted to keep something this pretty for herself… could one really blame her?

“I hope you don’t think me a spendthrift now for buying a 28-galleon dress,” Hermione pleaded while the girls waited for her to be fitted.

“Well you do deserve a reward for actually earning your galleons,” Parvati pointed out, “and besides you look really good in it.”

“What’s the occasion?” asked Alice, “So many students are buying dresses and dress robes this summer, come to think of it.”

“Frankly we don’t really know either,” said Hermione. “It’s for a ball at school.”

“Balls are always fun! You never know who you’re going to end up dancing with. I’ve only been to one, and it was the best day of my life,” Alice nodded happily, “I met my fiance there.”

Hermione glanced sideways at the new ring on Alice’s finger, remembering their conversation last winter. It would seem that the long awaited proposal had finally happened. She’d have to remember to congratulate Alice the next time she showed up as ‘Sandra’.

“Aw, that’s so sweet!” Lavender’s squeal brought Hermione out of her recollections. “I can’t wait! This year’s gonna be swell!”

“There’s still plenty of time for you lot,” said Alice, “as my friend Sandra told me - she’s the one who started this shop, actually - everyone finds love eventually. All I needed was patience.”

Daphne smiled politely, but Lavender and Parvati nodded heavily as if they’d just been handed the key to the meaning of life.

It was too unfortunate, Hermione thought, that the original source of that nugget of wisdom was as qualified as a pile of horse dung. (And perhaps less authentic than such.) Sandra, the wisewoman. Sandra, the pile of costume and masking charms lying in one of the many compartments of her closet. It was dramatic irony at its finest.

“There - You look just like a blooming rose!”

“Um, I - well -” Suddenly resurfacing from her thoughts, Hermione was so unprepared that she had to flounder around for a full two seconds before remembering how to take a compliment! “Roses are my favourite flowers, I used to plant them a lot… And I guess I do have to look nice to match all of you, otherwise the photographers will have to magick me out of the pictures.”

They chatted with Alice a bit more though. Apparently Alice had known Sirius’s niece Nymphadora Tonks from school, which wasn’t surprising. Even Hermione knew _of_ the metamorphmagus, and the Hufflepuffs in that year all looked to get along fairly well.

“I’ll just make a couple more final touch-ups, and we can mail this to you tomorrow,” Alice eventually declared, “Have fun, girls!” 

“I really wish they’d announce what they’ve got planned this year at school,” said Lavender as they left, “then we can start finding dates in advance - What? You’ve gotta snatch’em before they’re gone!”

“You’re incorrigible, Lavender…”

“Hey, if the ball will happen at school, do you think the professors will be dancing?” wondered Daphne.

“That’ll be funny!” Parvati started to giggle, “Can you imagine Dumbledore dancing? Can you imagine _Snape_ dancing? Hehehe...”

Hermione reached over and covered Parvati’s mouth. “Shh!”

“What?”

“He’s standing right over there!”

“... Oh. Er... Yeah. let’s go.”

\-------------------------------------------

“Severus! It’s good to see you out of the castle at last!”

Severus spun around, ready to deal a verbal riposte to whoever decided to take yet another jab at how he supposedly needed more sun. Earlier he’d thought he’d heard his name among some girlish sniggers, but he’d been too slow to catch the brats. It was too bad.

But it wasn’t little girls this time, though. Just Lucius and his dragonhide cloak. “You’re one to talk, Lucius. It’s as if you’ve vanished off the face of the earth this month.”

Given how frequently the blond aristocrat appears in media, Severus would normally consider any period of ‘silence’ from Lucius lasting longer than two weeks to be a cause for justified concern. That said, Severus wasn’t surprised that Lucius decided to keep a low-profile after the purported appearance of Death Eater masks and the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup. “People are taking the World Cup rather well, aren’t they? You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

“We have? Some would be more impressed with Bill E13 and the Muggle Protection Act,” Lucius muttered, “Everything’s been surprisingly easy though, with everyone working together. How do you think they did it, Severus?”

“What do you mean?” Severus was confused.

“What - well, surely you don’t think they did it all with just quill and paper?”

“... quill and paper?” Was this the mysterious galvanizing force that had guided the dark-traditionalists through their string of political activities recently? Dumbledore had emphatically requested that he find opportunities to find out what it was. This was his chance.

Lucius’s thoughtful expression morphed into nonplussed frown. “You have not received a letter signed S? Not one? Goodness, I’d have thought everybody we know would’ve had contact with them at some point last year! Well, everybody worth remembering, anyways.”

“They never gave a name? And by everybody we know, do you mean -”

“From work _and_ from school, yes. And they signed with just the monogram S every time. When I received their first letter two winters ago I wondered if it was from you, but it didn’t look like your handwriting. Now I think our mysterious friend just insists on staying mysterious.”

“Do you know why? Surely you have guesses?” Severus pressed. Two years ago… Didn’t that coincide with the tremendous behavioural changes in Slytherin House at Hogwarts, as well as the resurgence in interest in Nocturnes? And didn’t public opinion for a certain historical figure take an upturn after -

“Guesses certainly, but so little to go on! I could just as well guess that perhaps they’re too modest to take credit for their extensive work,” said Lucius sarcastically. “I think perhaps S doesn’t want their association with us to be known. Anyways, I’ll see you later.”

“Right…”

Severus blinked after him, and thought a bit more about what he’d just heard.

And swore.

Then he floo right back to Hogwarts, and made a beeline for a certain highly suspect portrait in the dungeon antechamber.

“Why, Severus! Where’s the fire?”

“Did you tell your protegee to send letters to Lucius?” Severus looked up and down the hall before accusing the portrait of the Slytherin founder in a low whisper, “to master politicians? Former Death Eaters?”

“Well,” shrugged the portrait with a nonchalance that Severus was starting to find incredibly irritating, “I did have some input into the contents of the letters. Was it the monogram that gave me away?”

“Did _she_ write them?” Severus demanded. “Please, can we skip the mind games? Just this once?”

Portrait-Salazar looked mildly surprised. “Yes, she did. What is your concern, Severus?”

“So it _was_ her! She’s the one that Dumbledore keeps nagging me to find, all this time!”

It was really her!

Hermione Granger...

“You seem worried, Severus,” observed Salazar, “Do you feel that I have placed my faith in the wrong person, or do you fear that I can’t handle the likes of Lucius Malfoy?”

“It’s not - I mean, I’m not,” Severus grumbled, “I’m just surprised that she was already dealing with someone as conniving as my old classmates back in her second year.” There wasn’t much that Severus could say, when Salazar put it like that.

But still… it was just incredible to think about everything the girl managed to do! Even if Salazar was dictating the letters and instructing her every step along the way, she still had to carry out the actions herself - putting quill to paper, imagining what the outcome and consequences would be, trying not to worry over what would happen if things go wrong, weighing her conscience as she works to shield proven criminals from public outlash…

“If that’s all, Severus, then I will take my leave. I would appreciate it if you could contact me in the Room of Requirements on the seventh floor the next time you wish to discuss sensitive topics. It’s embarrassing to have someone publicly question whether you know what you’re doing...”

Severus would hardly doubt the intelligence of a wizard who was notorious for that very quality, but he really hoped that Salazar really had everything under control. Not that he didn’t trust the Slytherin founder, but the stakes were really very high.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm wondering if I should add a line or two to end the Snape section.
> 
> Do you think this chapter adequately show the result of Sal and Lucius, co's efforts in the previous chapter? Any extra explanations needed? 
> 
> (It sounds like Lucius's thoughts regarding S's identity could be clarified a bit more. I'm still trying to figure out how to revise it lol. I might also just add more explanations in later chapters, because he'll be thinking about her a few more times in the future)
> 
> How do you like Hermione's dress-buying scene and the transition into/out of it? This is one of the scenes that should have some emotional significance to Hermione, but I'm not sure how much I should expand on it


	6. Chapter 6

The new school year started like usual, if only a bit wetter. It had been raining during the entirety of the journey to school, and everybody who couldn’t make it into the castle quickly enough had been treated to pouring rain and a generous serving of water balloons courtesy of Peeves. As a result, many people were irritably drying themselves as they plopped down at their house tables.

“How are some of you not drenched?” asked Lavender plaintively as she cast a drying charm on her cloak.

“My cloak is water-repelling,” a fifth-year boy said smugly from a few seats up the table, “I got it just this summer from the Spindle. It’s nice to have foresight, eh, Sally? Your hair still looks nice.”

“Thanks. I cast a few water-repelling charms as well,” said Hermione. The moisture hadn’t been doing her hair any favours, but some hairstyling charms that Mme. Leblanc taught her seemed to have done the trick. Perhaps she should be doing them every day, if there were to be cameras around this year.

Meanwhile, a few seats down the table, Dean was twisting around to stare at the Head table. “Any idea who our new temporary Defence professor is? Or _where_ he is?”

“Professor Lupin says it’s a retired auror named Alastor Moody,” said Harry.

Hermione nodded. “They say he’s quite good, isn’t he? Does anyone know of him, perchance?”

“Oh he comes over for dinner many times a year!” said the fifth-year from earlier, “My family’s very big in the ministry, so we know quite a few important people. I went nogtail hunting with Rufus Scrimgeour once too. He’s the head of the Auror office now that Moody retired. I’m sure old Mad-eye will recognize a McLaggen when he sees one.”

“You are Cormac McLaggen?” guessed Hermione. Although she hadn’t known him by name, she _had_ seen him in the common room boasting about something or the other quite often. She supposed here was the reason.

Cormac puffed up instantly. “You’ve heard of me! Goodness, and here I was wondering if I should’ve introduced myself. I think we should hang out sometime, Sally.”

“I’m always happy to make new friends,” Hermione inclined her head politely. She didn’t care either way. McLaggen wasn’t especially important politically, and his personality didn’t particularly impress. _‘Almost like Draco before he learned better, heh heh...’_

The wooden doors finally opened to admit the group of soaking wet first-years, and the sorting proceeded as usual. Dennis Creevy, Colin’s younger brother, joined the Gryffindor table, and Colin immediately began to point people out for him to know, and continue to do so excitedly even after the food was served. “Dennis! Dennis! See that boy over there? The one with the black hair and glasses? _That’s Harry Potter!_ ”

Harry groaned.

“Look on the bright side! You probably won’t be the only celebrity here this year. I presume from Daphne’s information that someone else is supposed to make the news,” Hermione reminded, “well I guess it might be _something_ as well, but probably _someone_.”

“I wonder what’s going on this year,” said Ron, “and what happened to Moody, anyways?”

On Hermione’s left side, Fred and George surreptitiously pulled out the Marauder’s Map. Incredibly, in the raging storm, ‘Alastor Moody’ was trudging up the path to the castle. “He’ll be here soon, I think,” said George.

When the feast was finished, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. “Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention while I give out a few notices. It is my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not be taking place this year. This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -”

Everyone was leaning forward to find out what exactly was the mystery event that warranted such a grand announcement, but Dumbledore was interrupted when the doors banged open and Alastor Moody finally walked in. His face was heavily scarred from the war, and combined with the wooden leg and the magical prosthetic eye, his countenance apparently frightened students so much that nobody applauded when he was introduced. The whole hall stared as Moody sat down in the empty place at the Head table, inspected the goblet before him very closely, then poured himself a cup of pumpkin juice.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “As I was saying, we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“You’re joking!” Fred blurted out.

Everyone laughed, although some people were already wearing dreamy expressions as they imagined the glory of the tournament. One couldn’t blame them. The Triwizard Tournament was well after Salazar’s time, but it was discussed frequently enough in books that Hermione had a good idea what it was about. It generally consisted of a series of trials that competitors must pass through, ranging from fighting a powerful beast to producing a piece of magical craftsmanship to overcoming an obstacle course. In other words, it was Godric’s ideal field trip for particularly zealous Gryffindors.

(Of course, the trials would obviously have to be performed under careful supervision by trained experts. The tragedies of 1790 and 1835 were poignant evidence attesting to the folly of poor organization.)

Dumbledore then went on to mention something about an age restriction, which provoked a round of furious grumbling. Fred and George were resolved to hoodwink the champion selection process and enter themselves despite being told explicitly just a moment ago not to try. “It sounds like he’s just trying to keep us from putting our names in. The actual judge would choose whoever’s most ready regardless of their age, right?”

Ron looked skeptical but tempted. “Any idea what’s actually doing the judging?”

“I’ve read that it’s a magical chalice that you put your signature into,” Hermione recited, “Then it measures everybody according to a predetermined list of qualities, then picks the closest-matching person from each school. I’m guessing it uses a spell array like the ones families use to enforce their inheritance rules.”

“I wonder how we’d do if we put our name in - oops…” Neville was saying, but got his foot stuck in the trick step in the distraction. He was blushing pink when Ron and Hermione pulled him out. “Thanks.”

“Shut up, you,” Ron banged on the visor of a suit of armour that had started to laugh. As they made their way back to the dormitories, everyone was happily spinning fanciful ideas of getting their names past whatever Dumbledore would set up around the cup to stop them.

Lavender and Parvati were positively giddy as the girls plopped into their beds. “Triwizard Tournament! That traditionally comes with a ball at Yule, doesn’t it? And it’s in front of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang too. Merlin, I’m glad I brought a nice dress!” Parvati bounced excitedly.

“Yeah!” echoed Lavender, “and now that we know what it is, we can start looking for dates! Get ahead of the competition, y’know. You can go with McLaggen, Sally.”

“I don’t think so,” said Hermione, “I’m planning to go alone. Why not just dance with whoever you meet there?”

“Because then all the cute ones will be taken!” Lavender told her as if she was a particularly dimwitted child, “Are you sure about McLaggen? He seems really into you. And he’s not bad-looking.”

“He seems - what?” Hermione, who had been about to close her curtains, paused. Now that she thought about it, Cormac McLaggen did start to appear in her vicinity very frequently sometime near the end of last year...

Lavender and Parvati tittered, and a sudden suspicion hit Hermione over the head like a tonne of bricks. By the stars, had he seriously been showing off _for her_ at dinner?

“Well, how about him?” Parvati goaded.

“He’s just a kid who doesn’t even know me,” Hermione blurted out before she could compose herself. “I don’t see him that way.” Seriously!

Well, she supposed she would be considered “fair game” for her classmates, but she hadn’t expected the drama to start quite so soon!

“Oh,” hummed Parvati, “well you’ll have plenty to choose from - especially after whatever you did to tame your hair! Looks much better now.”

“It does? Thanks, that’s good to know,” Hermione muttered, calming down again. McLaggen will probably turn his attention to a different girl eventually, so she didn’t even know why she bothered to be surprised. Although... now that she thought about it, hadn’t Neville been acting weirdly too recently?

Hermione cast her mind back to dinner: Neville, with a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks and a small, forlorn sort of smile that wavered at the corners, his eyes quickly darting away just as she turned his way…

“Isn’t there anybody you _do_ want to dance with, Sally?” Asked Lavender.

“Lots of people,” Hermione shrugged, “but not for the whole evening, though.” Her classmates were clearly not seeing the dance as just a dance. In fact, they seemed to think it would be a magical place to pair up with their Adonises or Helens of Troy (if only it could be that easy!). Regardless of her personal feelings about the matter, Hermione wouldn’t deprive them of the chance to enjoy their normal, uncomplicated romance. It would be terribly irresponsible of her.

 _Anyways,_ there was a full day of lessons to look forward to, and she’d especially love to get a measure of this new Professor Moody. She could see from yesterday’s feast that he was extremely paranoid, and while it would be highly hypocritical of her to fault anyone for caution, it did once again mean that she would need to be careful. She could just imagine the fuss he would raise if, say, Lucius’s owl landing in front of her at breakfast tomorrow (which was why she’d been trying to conduct as much of S’s correspondence through two-way parchment to prevent this eventuality). And Moody had been strongly opposed to Bill E13… She wondered if Moody’s presence this year would be a blessing or a curse.

Thoughts now on more familiar ground, Hermione finally drifted off to sleep.

\-------------------------------

The next morning began with an explosive start, as Hagrid excitedly announced that they would be taking care of “Blast-ended skrewts” for the entirety of Care of Magical Creature this year.

“Why would we want to take care of them?” Draco took one look at the hideous and obviously dangerous crustaceans (?) and started to complain. “What’s the point of them? Why would anyone want to feed something that stings, sucks blood, and shoots fire all at once?”

Hermione came to Hagrid’s defence. “Draco, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study the inheritance of magical traits. Just think, to produce these things, someone’s gone through great trouble to breed a manticore with something as lowly as a firecrab! Will the skrewts inherit the magical abilities of both parents? How about the manticore’s near-human intelligence? We don’t get to observe these things everyday, you know.”

Draco perked up at that and began taking notes with a fervor. Ron, who had been preparing to tell Draco off for being rude to Hagrid, directed his attention elsewhere. Theo was staring at her with a strange expression that she couldn’t read very well. “Why am I not surprised you’d come up with something like that?”

Hermione shrugged. She meant what she said, despite the questionable ethics that brought the skrewts into existence. Whoever made them were nearly as irresponsible as that Greek witch Demeter, or that Norse wizard Loki… How desperate would one have to be to create an abomination of that nature? She hoped she’d never find out.

By the time they left Care of Magical Creatures, Hermione had a feeling that Hagrid had just became the school’s coolest teacher. But of course they had yet to meet Moody, and judging from the excited chatters all around, Hagrid might soon be up against stiff competition.

“You can put your books away, you won’t need them,” Moody said as he stomped into the room. “Now, I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems he’s been thorough in showing you how to defend against Dark creatures - you’ve covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, and Kappas. But your education on curses is less than consistent, so I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other.”

“Professor Lockhart taught us about curses,” volunteered Parvati.

“ _Lockhart_ ,” Moody snorted, “I don’t know what he dabbled in to get himself landed in long-term care at St. Mungo’s, but it sure ain’t pleasant.” He gave a harsh laugh, then clapped his gnarled hands together. “So - straight into it. Dark curses. Do any of you know which are punished most heavily by wizarding law?”

Many hands went into the air confidently. “Imperio, crucio, avada kedavra,” said Ron.

“Correct,” Moody raised a grizzled eyebrow, “at least you lot are well informed. Among all the things a dark wizard can do to you, the unforgivable curses are the most famous - and generally considered to be the most dangerous. I hope most of you have not had the misfortune of witnessing them.” His glass eye lingered on Neville, then Harry. “There are, of course, exceptions.

“Regardless, today you will all see firsthand what they do. The ministry is of the opinion that you aren’t ready to see curses in action until your NEWT year. I disagree. I say all of you need to know exactly what you’re up against, to understand just how much damage dark arts can cause. Just because the war is over doesn’t mean the danger is gone.”

Moody reached a scarred hand into his pocket and pulled out a jar of three large spiders, and carefully pulled one out. “Imperio,” he said as he proceeded to make the spider tap dance across his palm, “the curse of total control. I can make it throw itself out the window, or shove itself down one of your throats. Some people can learn to fight it, most can’t. We will work on that next class.

“Now, the next one - Crucio!” Moody cast harshly, and began to torture the enlarged spider in a most grotesque fashion. The visual impact was definitely there. Despite having an intellectual understanding of what the pain curse could do at its worst, most of the class flinched and looked on in undisguised horror. Ron covered his eyes and gasped in shallow breaths. Lavender yelped for Moody to stop, but the hard-faced professor didn’t relent. A point had to be made.

Eventually, Neville was the one who couldn’t stand the display any longer. “Crucio,” he stood up and cast, and the spider’s tremors stopped. It lay down on the table in tired but peaceful relief.

Heads swivelled around at that. Neville shrank down in his set, clearly astonished by himself. Moody stared at Neville thoughtfully. Hermione stared at Moody.

“ _Lockhart_ told you lot that the cruciatus can be countered with a second opinion?” Moody muttered rather incredulously at last. “It’s true, of course. Dumbledore told all the aurors about the … shall we say, little-known counter back in the war, but of course it was useless when no one was willing to actually practice the cruciatus. Unlike Mr. Longbottom here,” his glass eye turned on Neville again, speculatively. “It looks like we might finally get a _smart_ bunch with you lot. Congratulations.”

The class blinked in surprised silence. But none was more surprised than Hermione.

Moody was proving to be quite different from the wizard she was expecting. Today he seemed almost _supportive_ of the dark arts, despite his political stance. Strange...

“And of course, the last and most notorious… Avada kedavra!” Moody cast, and allowed the carcass of the giant spider to roll dramatically off the desk. “Instant death, no known counters. It can be blocked by another life, but also by objects in some cases - although not reliably.  Fortunately it takes loads of power to cast, so most can’t do it. But you know who used to throw out killing curses like sweets?” His lips twisted into a rather frightful grin. “Sorry. That wasn’t funny.”

For the remainder of the lecture, Moody pulled out several flasks of memories from the war and played them before the class as if in a Wizengamot hearing. He even gave a move-by-move commentary of the spells that were cast at him and how he responded. He was clearly an excellent duellist, and when the awestruck class trooped out the door it was with great reluctance.

Hermione stayed behind, oddly reminded of second-year with Lockhart. “Professor, please, I have some questions,”

An electric blue pupil fixed its gaze on her. “Ask away, girl.”

“Well, during that duel you showed us,” Hermione thought carefully about how to word her question, “you cast the invictus variation of the expulso spell, right?”

“I did. You recognize it?”

“Professor Lockhart described it afterclass one day,” Hermione lied. “But well, doesn’t that variation belong to a branch of dark arts? And aurors were using it?”

Moody snorted, looking decidedly amused. “I wasn’t breaking the law, if that’s what you’re asking. Aurors got special permission to use dark arts during the war - we were desperate, see. Not many of them took advantage of it though.”

“But… then you agree that using and practicing dark arts is necessary?”

“Well of course it is! When you’re in a war facing dark wizards who’ll use anything they can to kill you, you don’t hold back!” Moody declared earnestly, “You don’t have to like it, but you need every curse you can use and more to keep yourself and your friends alive. If you keep to the tame spells you die. That’s what I keep trying to tell the newbies!”

“But,” Hermione asked with genuine confusion, “then you agree with the new bill they passed - E13, I think it’s called?”

Moody’s muttered answer came readily, although grudgingly. “I suppose I do. They have the right idea with Bill E13 for once. It’s too bad...”

“But what do you think of what Lucius Malfoy and Tristan Nott and Alessandra Greengrass are trying to do?” Hermione pressed.

“Them!” The grizzled (and politically frustrating) veteran professor rounded on her, suddenly filled with fury, “They’re the kind of people who’s causing the whole problem! They actually want to invent new dark arts every few years, and force the rest of us to either sink to their level or put ourselves at their mercy! I don’t have a problem with people who come out of Slytherin on principle, don’t get me wrong. But some people just can’t be satisfied with just living. They always want more… I guess you’ve heard a lot of politics over the summer?”

“Sirius - Harry’s godfather, that is - was ranting a lot,” Hermione lied again.

“Ha! Good old Sirius. The only good seed from that rotten family…”

Hermione nodded and was dismissed from his classroom. She could see now that Moody wasn’t the sort of hard opposition she thought he would be. He was even tougher. Honestly, she could dispel prejudice, quench fear, even pull people out of uninspired laziness with effort - but this _philosophical_ difference, it very likely won’t ever go away no matter what she does. But maybe it’s better that way too. Balance, and all.  

As long as he didn’t hate her too much, Hermione smiled crookedly.

“Sal,” Hermione was pulled from her thoughts when she was hailed by her portrait self, “I’ve just received some interesting information 15 minutes ago. Moderate urgency.”

“We’ll talk this evening,” Hermione promised. What could it be now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Hermione's hair, I'm imagining that by this point it's no longer bushy but kind of messy/unkempt like this: https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/355221489344403652/?lp=true
> 
> Actually Tanya Degurechaff from Youjo Senki would be a really good basis for what Sally-Hermione looks like right now...


	7. Chapter 7

“According to Severus, Sal, the Dark Mark is becoming more visible. Severus has good reasons to see this as an indication that Voldemort has recently done something to strengthen himself.”

“I see,” Hermione muttered. Just when she’d fixed one problem, another had crept along… But perhaps she was at fault for growing complacent. When they saw the Dark Mark at the Triwizard cup, she’d written it off as another bit of drunken fun, or else a ploy by an ex-death eater to scare off the marchers. Now she had to wonder if it was connected to the larger and more difficult problem of her heir. She had not completely neglected Tom Marvolo Riddle these past years, but she had elected to use the temporary calm to develop her own strategic position rather than dedicating all resources to terminating him first. Evidently, she couldn’t go on assuming that Voldemort would keep out of her way. 

What was it that spurred him to action again after his defeat two years prior? Was it the sight of his power base being gradually dismantled? A sudden opportunity? Or had she simply underestimated his impatience?

Either way, she had no idea where he was. He could still be in Albania, or he could’ve gone elsewhere. To think he would be at the Quidditch World Cup in person (or perhaps in spirit, in his case) would be a bit too far a stretch, right? “I don’t suppose we have any idea what his objective is this time?”

“No, but I’d assume his immediate goal is still to gain a body,” murmured her portrait self.

“Gaining a body isn’t all of it. If he’s as good at possession as he’s proven himself to be, then he could’ve gained a body thirteen years ago - all he needed to do was sneak one loyal Death Eater out of Azkaban - but he didn’t do it. I’m assuming he’s waiting for something else, either to do a more special ritual or to prepare his power base for his return? And if we can’t figure out what he’s up to now, we may have to accept his resurrection and deal with him after,” Hermione steepled her fingers. “I wonder, what does Severus and Albus think?”

“Albus is concerned,” Portrait-Sal mirrored her, “but he does not look to be preparing any pre-emptive strikes either. I suppose there’s still too little information for that, and our work with the dark-traditionalists is confusing him.”

“Sun and stars, I don’t need him working against me too at this juncture! And what about Severus?”

“Severus? He informed me of the change in his Dark Mark while wearing a most stoic expression. I can guess at how he’s feeling, but I have to admit that it would involve  _ a lot _ of guessing on my part. Although,” Portrait-Sal suddenly chuckled, “I was reading a noticeable amount of worry… and protectiveness. Toward  _ you _ , Sal.”

“How gallant,” Hermione muttered, “but of course, he thinks me a little child.” She still wished Severus Snape didn’t have to know about her efforts to meddle in politics, but she didn’t have any other choice. Her hand had been forced last year. “It’s of little consequence though.”

“ _ I _ wish he’d stop. He’s much more pleasant when he’s not getting upset over how I  _ made  _ you write those letters.” laughed her portrait, “Speaking of which, how do you think your correspondents will react to the Dark Mark?”

Hermione thought. “Cautiously carry on with everyday business, probably, and prepare to choose sides.” That meant getting a good look at how the odds are stacked, figuring out who would return to Voldemort, marking down who might defect.

And, of course, gathering information on all unknowns. Such as a nameless entity  _ S. _ , for example. 

Going by the way things looked, this year might just be the year when everything would come to a head. Threats to her cause were closing in from all sides: the physical threat of Voldemort, political opponents, fickle dark-traditionalists, a twitchy public… It would likely take all aspects of her strength to fend them off. By then, merely influencing events from the back would be inadequate. If she wanted to preserve any of her work in clearing her sullied family name, if she ever hoped to see the Dark Arts restored to its rightful place and purpose in society, she’d have to enter the fray herself. 

In the past three years she’d worked tirelessly to build up her strength and resources. The question was, was she ready?

“I believe we will be finding out soon enough.”

\--------------------------------

In the middle of the night, the faint wavering outline of a figure under disillusion charms threw a useless lump of rock to the ground in frustration. His attempt at creating a functioning portkey out of Hogwarts grounds had failed again. It seemed there really was no way around Hogwarts’ anti-portkey wards. 

Ah well, he would have to wait and see whether Dumbledore lowers the wards when the foreigners start coming and going. And if that would not work, at least he could still take advantage of the one assured moment when he knew the portkey wards  _ must  _ be down...

\---------------------------------

Lucius puzzled over the piece of high quality but otherwise indescript parchment. Earlier he’d written to S with the following:

_ ‘To S, _

_ How do you fare? _

_ It would appear that we have all but completely smothered the outrageous rumours of the Quidditch World Cup. But I cannot help but remember that among the rumours that are in no way true, there has been talk of a Dark Mark cast. I had not thought much of it at the time, but now I wonder if the reappearance of the Dark Lord’s sign concerns you as much as it concerns me. Particularly if it persists. _

_ Yours truly, _

_ Lucius M.’ _

Lucius had spent some time carefully adjusting the wording, and he had been rather proud of his finished work. If S had been a Death Eater, then S would certainly understand his reference toward the darkening brand on his left arm and address the issue in their next letter. If not, then S would assume he meant the Dark Mark sighting at the Quidditch games. It should have been quite illuminating.

Instead, S had replied with:

_ ‘Dear Lucius, _

_ I have noticed the Dark Mark, as I am sure many others have as well. Its reappearance brings a new obstacle to our cause. This obstacle should be contained and circumvented. I am making provisions for the new development in my future plans.  _

_ Until next time, _

_ S.’ _

Lucius hadn’t thought it possible to receive a response so infernally confusing. The choice of words for the first sentence,  _ ‘I have noticed the Dark Mark…’, _ did indeed suggest that  _ S _ was not referring to the Dark Mark in the sky at all. But if that was true, then the remainder of the message would suggest that their mysterious friend wished to contain and circumvent the Dark Lord? And felt reasonably confident in their ability to act on the boast?! 

Surely Lucius was misinterpreting? But that would imply that S had worded the opening sentence awkwardly by accident - which seemed to Lucius rather uncharacteristic of them. 

Lucius could only conclude that either S was being intentionally ambiguous, or his mysterious correspondent was giving him a hint. A hint that he unfortunately could not make heads or tails of, at least as of now. 

Mustering patience, Lucius contemplated what to write the next time. 

\------------------------

_ ‘S, _

_ Call me paranoid, but do you feel as I do that these past years have been but the calm before the storm? We had thought ourselves safe after the dust had settled from the war thirteen years ago, and we have begun to clear the debris and rebuild from the ruins, but now there is thunder once again. From your continued efforts to establish the dark arts as a respectable and integral part of our society, I can see that you still see value in these pursuits. Have you prepared for what I fear will return?  _

_ I send my best regards, _

_ T.N.’ _

_ ‘My friend, _

_ Paranoia does not hurt. I too believe that we are headed for conflict once more, possibly on the scale of the previous war. However, I am equally convinced that we should continue to build upward. I intend for our work to survive the storm intact, and I am confident that we can accomplish this together.  _

_ Yours sincerely, _

_ S.’ _

\---------------------------

Back at Hogwarts, Harry was enjoying the autumn weather. It was already October 31st, which meant that sunshine wasn’t going to last very long in the afternoon. But despite the shortening daylight, there was a sort of energy all around the school. Like everybody was waiting for something big to happen. 

But he guessed that would be kind of true, what with the Triwizard Tournament about to happen and all. 

Suddenly, he heard a pained little voice. 

_ “Someone heeeelp…” _

He had to look around for awhile before he finally realized he was hearing parseltongue. Turning his gaze closer to the ground, he eventually spotted a small snake - viper? The head kind of looked like one - stuck under a large rock. It hadn’t been easy. The little black snake was buried under a lot of dirt.

“Wingardium leviosa,” Harry lifted the rock away,  _ “are you alright?” _

The little maybe-viper managed to splutter with surprise.  _ “You are a teacher?”  _ Now that he - male vipers were black, right? - was out of the dirt, Harry could see that there was a crooked strip of grey running along his back.

_ “No, I am a student at the school,” _ said Harry.

_ “Yes, but you are a Teacher. You look like one and you talk like one.”  _ His new acquaintance insisted. 

Harry suddenly remembered a passage from that little book about serpents he’d read way back in first year. Slytherin had written that snakes learn from speaking to others with more developed intelligence.  _ “Well, if you mean that I teach other snakes to speak, then I guess I could be one,” _ accepted Harry. Teacher… he felt oddly proud of that title.  _ “My name is Harry.” _

_ “My name is Crookshank,”  _ said the little snake with the crooked back strip,  _ “It is so great that I am meeting a two-legged Teacher! I was taught by my mother at first, but she did not speak very well herself. Just enough to give me a name. But then I met Esmeralda, and she is a great Teacher! I learned lots from her, and she must be ten - no, hundreds of times my size too!” _

Harry smiled. Crookshanks apparently loved to be dramatic.

_ “I also met Salazar, and she is a great Teacher too! But she is only a bit bigger than me. I thought you need to be big to be intelligent?” _

_ “Not always. One of my teachers called Professor Flitwick is only half as tall as me, and he is super smart,”  _ Harry found that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. On the one hand this was surprisingly fun, on the other hand he was super curious about what the life of a snake was like.  _ “What exactly did happen to you, Crookshank? I hope it did not hurt very much.”  _

Crookshank immediately started to hiss his complaints.  _ “It was scary! I was in my burrow, minding my own business, when suddenly some invisible thing threw this giant rock and squashed my home!” _

Invisible thing?  _ “Maybe it fell from somewhere?”  _

_ “There was no one when I looked around! And there was nothing in the sky! It came from nowhere…”  _ insisted Crookshank vehemently,  _ “but after it broke my home, I heard footsteps going away! Why did it break my home?” _

Harry looked up. Crookshank’s burrow was in a perfectly flat piece of land, and although they were at the edge of the forest, there wasn’t any trees above. The small boulder really couldn’t have fell from anything overhead. Weird…  _ “I do not have an answer for you, but I am glad you are alright now,”  _ he told the indignant serpent.  _ ‘Look, I have to go back to the castle now. I have to wait with the others at the door and greet some visitors from other schools.’ _

Crookshank calmed.  _ “I am glad you found me, Teacher. Will I see you again?” _

_ “I walk by here every Wednesday morning. You can call for me if you like,”  _ Wednesdays were Hagrid’s skrewt lessons. Harry sighed. While the skrewts were kind of interesting to watch, he really wished Hagrid didn’t insist on them interacting with the skrewts from such close range. 

_ “Goodbye, Teacher. Until next time.” _

Harry went. He wondered how the visitors from the other schools are going to arrive? Maybe by brooms? Or a giant portkey? Or maybe they’ll all apparate? He couldn’t wait to meet them!

In his excitement about the Tournament, he soon forgot all about the incident.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing: Crookshank!


	8. Chapter 8

****

On Halloween at Hogwarts, the air was buzzing with excitement. The foreign delegates were scheduled to arrive at six in the evening. All the students had been herded outside to welcome the guests. Her classmates ‘ooh’ed and ‘aah’ed when the Beauxbatons party arrived in a giant powder-blue wheelhouse, but of course they cheered even louder when the Durmstrang ship transported into the Black Lake (special permission to portkey?) and out stepped - 

“Oh Merlin! It’s Viktor Krum! Has anyone got a quill?” 

“D’you think he’d sign my hat in lipstick?”

Viktor Krum shuffled awkwardly past the gawking girls and boys and into the castle. The slippery-looking Durmstrang headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, fussed over him the whole way. Another former Death Eater, Hermione vaguely remembered. 

Harry looked on sympathetically. 

Meanwhile, the Beauxbatons headmistress Olympe Maxime waved a long arm and beckoned her shivering students to follow as well. All of them were wearing thin, powder-blue silk robes that looked very stylish. But of course, unlike Hogwarts and Durmstrang, Beauxbatons was said to have begun as a school for magical nobles. Pageantry would have been a prerequisite. 

When everyone settled in the Great Hall for dinner, Hermione had much more time to satisfy her curiosity and study the new arrivals. The Beauxbatons party settled at the Ravenclaw table while the Durmstrang delegates (to Ron’s great disappointment) sat with the Slytherins. Hermione was happy to see that the northerners were swiftly joining the conversations at the table as soon as they sat down. The French lot, meanwhile, looked thoroughly unhappy with the accomodation. 

One of them even laughed derisively when Dumbledore wished them a comfortable stay. Hermione rolled her eyes. Were the French still sour about losing the bid to host the tournament? 

The two headmasters joined the Head Table along with two more visitors: Bartemius Crouch and Ludo Bagman. Karkaroff had began speaking with Dumbledore at first opportunity. Crouch and Bagman looked no different from when Hermione had last seen them. Maxime, meanwhile, was eating gracefully and ignoring Hagrid’s misty-eyed look.  _ Ohh boy... _

Hermione suddenly had a vague feeling that she was watching an impeding broom crash, although she completely sympathized. Romance must be difficult for a half-giant. Despairing to ever meet someone who’s compatible with you and who’d accept you, hardly daring to hope… 

“Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?” a voice sounded from somewhere above Hermione, and quite close by.

It was the girl who had been so displeased with being forced to tolerate this lowly Great Hall. She’d gotten up from her seat to wander over to the Gryffindor table. Ron stared wide-eyed at her, squeaked, and handed over the dish breathlessly. 

“She’s a veela!” he finally blurted out as the girl walked away with her prize, “I’m telling you, that’s not a normal girl! They don’t make them like that at Hogwarts!”

“They make them okay at Hogwarts,” said Harry, curiously also staring at the Ravenclaw table.

“Yeah,” said Neville, round cheeks blushing a soft peony pink... 

Hermione sighed. The figurative broom crash was suddenly too close for comfort.

“Look there, in the corner!” Fred suddenly spoke up, pointing to the front of the room, “That big box with the jewels, what’s in it?”

“Possibly that’s the Goblet of Fire - the cup that’s supposed to choose the champions,” Hermione guessed. It looked the right size.

“Is that what we have to get past to put our names into the cup?” George scratched his head. 

“Is it really a good idea to trick the age restriction?” Harry frowned, “it’s there for a reason, right?”

“Well it can’t hurt, can it?” shrugged Fred, “The cup will choose the most qualified person in the school, right? So if we’re not ready, it just won’t pick us.” 

Desserts appeared. Ron tried to use a plate of blancmange to tempt the part-veela, but was unsuccessful. Finally, Dumbledore stood and presented the Goblet of Fire. All eyes in the room watched avidly as Dumbledore drew an age line, told students to submit their magical signature, and solemnly reminded everyone that magical contracts could not be broken. No one immediately submitted their names when the meal concluded. The Durmstrang students went back to their ship while the Beauxbatons lot went back to their wheelhouse. Everyone from Hogwarts left the Great Hall as well. It would seem that everyone had the good sense to consider their decisions carefully.

“Well,  _ we’re _ definitely going to put our names in,” Fred and George said excitedly as they trooped back to Gryffindor tower, “an aging potion should do it!”

“Oh, put mine in too while you’re at it, would you?” begged Ron. “How about you, Harry?”

“I don’t think I’ll join,” said Harry, “I don’t want to die.”

“We won’t, though!” insisted Ron, “the professors will make it safe, and Dumbledore will be watching the whole time!”

“Still…”

“Ah well, suit yourself,” Ron nodded quickly, “one less competition for me. Oh, if  _ I  _ win that tournament!”

“Dream on, brother!” 

“Would you put your name in, Sally?” asked George, “And no, we’re not asking just because you’re good at brewing potions, of course not!”

“Me? I don’t think so,” Hermione chuckled, “And besides I don’t think they’ll be dumb enough not to guard the cup against aging potions. You’ll probably have to try much harder to get around whatever Dumbledore set up.”

Ron wilted a bit, but Fred thumped his chest confidently. “Don’t worry, we’ll find a way,” he declared with fire-forged determination, “even if we have to sit around that goblet all night! Ron, here, write your name a dozen times with this quill. We’re going to go do some experiments! ”

“Suit yourself. I’m going to sleep. You guys have fun!” Hermione waved. Well, if they could manage to find a way past the wards, they’d probably do fine in the Tournament anyways. And that was assuming the cup would choose them over all the others.

The next morning, Hermione and Harry found the Weasley brothers waving at them with great enthusiasm. All three of them sported ridiculous-looking long, white beards, but they were grinning in victory. “We did it!” Ron announced excitedly, “It took all night, but we put our names in!”

“You were right! We tried the aging potion but that just gave us beards. Then we tried to throw it in but the wards kept blocking us,” Fred’s face was flushed as he regaled an eager audience with their tale, “In the end we had to go to the owlery and borrow Pigwidgeon! And lo and behold, Pig dropped our names over the goblet, and the goblet didn’t spit them back out! It took them! We’ve got to give that owl treats every day for the whole year!”

“We also entered our names two other ways,” added George, “just to be sure.”

“Aw! I should’ve thought of using an owl!” Muttered Cormac McLaggen.

“Hey, we would’ve put your name in too if you’d stuck around to help us,” shrugged George magnanimously, “it wasn’t easy getting to the owl idea, I tell you. Anyways, we’re going to the Hospital Wing to get rid of the beards. Then I think I’m gonna go take a nap - wouldn’t want to fall asleep when they start naming the champions! See you all at supper!” 

Harry and Hermione watched them bounce away, their beards flopping around with each step. “They sure put in the effort,” Harry remarked, “I guess if they get chosen then that means they’re ready.”

Hermione was actually a bit surprised that the headmaster hadn’t thought to guard against owls. Ah well.

By supper, the Great Hall was buzzing with excitement. The rumour mill had informed Hermione that Angelina Johnson, Cedric Diggory, and Cassius Warrington had added their names to the cup during the day. All eyes were on the goblet as it began to turn red and choose the champions.

“The champion for Durmstrang is… Viktor Krum!”

“The champion for Beauxbatons is… Fleur Delacour!”

“And lastly, the champion for Hogwarts is…”

Ron rubbed his hands together impatiently.

“... Harry Potter?”

 


	9. Chapter 9

Shocked silence filled the hall, followed by raucous applause from the Gryffindor table. 

“So you ended up putting your name in too! You little rascal!” Fred and George were laughing and slapping Harry on the back, “Go win that Cup, mate!”

Harry blinked. “But I didn’t…” He didn’t do it! How did his name get in there?

Numbly, he got to his feet and made his way to the head table. The thunderous noise in the Great Hall faded to a dull buzz against the loudness of his thoughts. How could this have happened?

“Through the back, Harry,” Dumbledore directed him, frowning.

“Professor, I never meant to enter the tournament! I didn’t put my name in!” Harry whispered back, urgently. 

Piercing blue eyes looked him over, and the frown deepened. “I’ll see what I can do.”

At least assured that Professor Dumbledore believed him, Harry shuffled into the waiting room after Krum and Delacour. Close up, he couldn’t help but notice that they were a whole head taller than him!

“Er, hello,” Harry mumbled, for lack of better things to do. 

Krum grunted something in response. Delacour flipped her silver hair and looked away.

The three of them went back to awkwardly staring at the otherwise empty room. 

Moments later, Dumbledore marched into the room with the other headmasters and the ministry people. “This is an exceptional circumstance. Harry said he never entered his name into the Goblet, and indeed the age line would have prevented him from doing so.”

“Ah, but there’s nothing to be done about it now!” Headmaster Karkaroff was quick to point out with a wide, ugly-looking grin, “The Goblet’s gone out. You can’t make it take back its decision. You’re stuck with the kid, Dumbledore!”

“Once a champion iz chosen he cannot back out,” said Madame Maxime placidly, “It iz in the rules.”

“The chosen champions must compete,” Behind them, Mr Crouch declared in usual his bland and emotionless tone. “They are magically bound.”

“See? Even your ministry has spoken,” said Karkaroff gleefully. Through it all, Krum and Delacour stood to the side silently as if nothing was happening. 

“But how can that be binding if  I didn’t enter myself?” Harry demanded. It was ridiculous that he had to go risk his life for some weird reason that he didn’t even know about! Who the hell put his name in?! 

The adults fell silent and looked at him. Dumbledore scratched his beard. “Now we come to our mystery, I’m afraid. You see, we know for a fact that the Goblet will not and in fact cannot recognize any submissions without a magical signature. Here is the slip of paper with your name, my boy.”

Harry took the charred slip from Dumbledore’s fingers, and was shocked to see that it was in his own handwriting! 

Dumbledore paused for Harry to process the information, then continued. “Now, it’s a simple matter to verify if the magical signature is yours, and there are multiple ways this can be done. Mr. Crouch, would you please show Mr. Potter the spell that defendants use in court to verify their own signatures?”

“Point your wand at the signature and say ‘estutrum factum’. A matching signature will glow gold while a false signature glows red. The spell will have no effect if no magical signature is present.” instructed Mr. Crouch in his wooden voice. 

Feeling inexplicably nervous, Harry cast the spell. And stared in horror as his name in his handwriting glowed gold.

“Now, boy, I understand that you feel overwhelmed,” began Karkaroff with a smug, patronizing smirk, “no doubt you only got someone to put your name in for the excitement -”

Harry barely refrained from shouting at him. “I did  _ not  _ put my name in, and I didn’t ask anyone to do it for me!” 

“I believe you, Harry,” Dumbledore gave Karkaroff a hard stare and interjected, “If you are not in the habit of checking your quills, I imagine you may have unknowingly used a signing quill when you wrote down your name for a different purpose, giving someone access to your unprotected signature. But can you now appreciate our current predicament, my boy? The submission of your magical signature into the Goblet constitutes a magical contract. I’m afraid we can only make peace with the situation.”

“It’s convenient, eh, that an underage boy has to compete in a contest that’s known for its death toll?” Growled a voice from the door. Everyone turned to look at the interruption. 

Moody had just entered the room. He limped toward the fire, and every two steps he took made a loud clunk.

“Convenient?” said Karkaroff, “I’m afraid I don’t understand you, Moody.”

He was trying to sound disdainful, but Harry also noticed that his hands were balled into fists.

“Don’t you?” said Moody, “It’s very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter’s name into the Goblet hoping that Potter would die for it!”

“Moody, you see danger in every shadow! I seem to recall that you’ve blasted half your house apart searching for some imagined evil curse, only to discover that your evil artifact was in fact a plain wall-clock -”

“More vigilance would have caught the quill, wouldn’t it?” said Moody quietly, “as well as the lurking criminal who gave it to the boy.”

Harry bowed his head. Moody was right, he should’ve been more careful with his quills. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know that signing quills existed - he just didn’t think there’d be any hazards in something as trivial as writing a name. So now he had to compete in the tournament no matter what… Unless there were loopholes somewhere in the contract? 

Eventually, Dumbledore broke up the argument between Moody and Karkaroff, and everyone went off to sleep. Harry, however, pulled out the galleon-sized gold coin in his pocket and willed the words on it to spell: ‘Can we talk tonight?’

The coins were the newest way to communicate that Sally made for the Nocturne Group after the Dark Mark thing that happened at the Quidditch Cup. It had this really neat charm called the ‘Protean Charm’ that lets one coin change the words on the other connected coins, so now they could contact each other without anybody else knowing. His friends were clever like that - they could think of anything. 

Hopefully they could think of something clever to help him get out of this jam as well. 

\------------------------------------

“... so then they said that since it was my magical signature on the parchment, I’m bound by magic to compete,” Harry explained. 

He was surprised with himself at how well he was handling this.

“What happens if you break a magical contract?” Terry wanted to know.

“Bad things,” assured Daphne, “it can be anything from ten years of bad luck to death.”

“Greeeeat,” Harry muttered. That didn’t sound pleasant at all.

“Well, nobody said you have to compete seriously,” Theo pointed out, “They can’t punish people for not being skilled enough, right? Who’s to say you can’t just make a token effort and say you’ve tried?”

But Blaise shook his head emphatically. “Wouldn’t that make him look really bad though? I mean, he’s the Boy-Who-Lived! Everyone thinks he’s a legend! Can you imagine what would happen to his reputation if Hogwarts lost because he doesn’t even finish a single task? They’ll never let him live this down.”

“Isn’t his life more important though?” reminded Anthony.

“Frankly I’m not seeing why you  _ can’t  _ compete,” said Terry, “the Goblet chose you, so that means you’re the best in Hogwarts right?”

“But what if I’m not? Pretty much all the seventh years and sixth years put their names in. There’s no way it would choose me over them! I bet it’s another trick.” A small part of Harry rebelled just a little at the idea that he would never have been judged worthy without interference though. 

“That’s not true!” Terry objected, “Maybe you’re not the best, but I’m pretty sure the Goblet wouldn’t pick you if you’re not ready - even if you were the only name in there. That actually happened in the 1800s! The Goblet refused to spit out a name for Hogwarts no matter what they tried. The Bulgarians laughed at us for years!”

“Hmm…” Everybody fell silent, and Harry couldn’t help but start to imagine again.  _ ‘If I win the tournament, I’d be known for something I did, not just getting hit in the head by a curse as a baby. Then I’d actually deserve the things they say about me…’ _

“If some student entered your name just because they wanted to do you a favour then all’s fine and dandy,” said Sally, “but I’m mainly worried that Moody might be right. What if someone’s trying to do you in?”

“So then you think I should try not to compete?” Harry asked.

Sally shook her head. “No, I think you should compete seriously. If somebody went through the trouble to get you into the Tournament, then they’re expecting you to really try. Possibly they’re planning to attack you during the tasks and make it look like an accident? Either way, Harry, you should keep doing what they want so that you can at least predict where and when they’d act. If you manage to exploit a loophole and get out of the tournament then we’ll have no idea what they’d do next.”

“That’s a good point,” nodded Anthony, “actually try to win, but don’t do anything risky stunts to get yourself killed.”

Harry thought for a while. “I think I’ll do it - compete properly, I mean. I’m not going to do anything stupid, but I don’t want to lose without trying either!” Who said he couldn’t handle the competition just because he was younger? He didn’t see the seventh years training for the whole year to fight for their lives last year! And besides, not everything was about brute power right? Surely he could make it as far as anyone else by working harder and thinking harder to prepare. 

“That’s the spirit!” Blaise and Terry clapped him on the shoulder.

“In the meantime we need to find out who put his name in and make sure they don’t try anything funny during the tasks,” said Daphne.

“And we’d best find them before the competition ends,” added Theo, “before they know they failed.”

That reminder brought Harry back down to earth again. Somebody was after him, and both Professor Moody and Sally think they put him in the Tournament to get him killed. A nervous pit started to form in his stomach.

At least he wasn’t completely terrified though, not after Quirrell and the false scare that Sirius gave him last year. The Nocturne Group would figure out what to do together - they always did. 

“Who do you think it is?” Asked Blaise, “My money’s on someone new. If they were here last year, why didn’t they bring out their nefarious schemes back then when they could’ve easily pin the blame on Sirius Black? It would’ve been a perfect opportunity.”

Terry and Theo nodded their approval of that logic. 

“I bet it’s Moody. It’s always the Defence professor,” joked Anthony.

“The Defence professor was pretty good last year though,” said Terry, “I miss Lupin.”

“I like Moody too,” Harry defended, “his class was awesome! He showed us so many ways to use spells in a duel!” 

“Moody’s not bad either,” allowed Daphne, “He’s kind of mean, but not a bad teacher… assuming he’s not our culprit, that is.”

“So who else could it be?” Harry wondered, “Karkaroff looks pretty shifty. Plus didn’t we find that article about his trial while we were researching Black last year? He was a confirmed Death Eater, but they let him go in exchange for testifying against other people.”

“But why would he risk his cushy job as headmaster to go after Harry?” Reasoned Theo, “He seems the type to only care about his interests, and Harry hasn’t even gotten in his way. I guess we can see what mark he gives Harry at the tasks? If he gives you a zero then he’s probably safe.”

“How about the ministry folks? Nobody said they’re saints,” suggested Blaise.

“And don’t forget the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons! Just because they’re students doesn’t mean they’re harmless. Didn’t Grindelwald start when he was still in 7th year?”

“I don’t think we can rule out anyone at this stage,” said Sally. “We should compile a list of any evidence we have. I’ll ask Fred, George and Ron. They staked out at the Goblet for most of the night, so they might have seen something.” 

“I’ll try to remember all the places where I’ve signed my name since the start of school, but I doubt I’ll be able to,” volunteered Harry. “Although… I don’t think I’ve signed anything last night or today. Does that rule out everyone who’s only gotten here yesterday?”

“Well that would leave only Moody!” declared Anthony triumphantly, “see, I was right.”

“We can’t rule out everybody,” Theo disagreed, “any of the ministry people could’ve strolled around Hogwarts before the official opening ceremony yesterday, and they don’t even have to worry about getting caught. If anyone runs into them, they could just say they wanted to tour the venue of the Tournament to help with preparations or something.”

“But by the same logic the other headmasters could’ve come for a visit too,” Daphne pointed out, “if anyone catches them, they could just say they were looking for Dumbledore. They don’t even have to get to Harry themselves. They could just imperio somebody and then obliviate them later.”

“I’d say that’s illegal, but I guess they wouldn’t care if they were trying to off Harry,” said Terry, “are we being a bit paranoid though?”

“No harm in preparing for the worst,” shrugged Blaise, “CONSTANT VIGILANCE!, says Moody.” 

“Besides, it’s not as if we’re going to charge off and confront any of them,” added Sally, “we’ll just be watchful.”

“So who does that really rule out? Only the foreign students?” Harry clarified.

“Yeah.”

“I guess so.”

“Sounds like we should start researching the backgrounds of all the new adults,” suggested Theo, 

Anthony nodded. “Yeah… It’s a good thing they’re all famous or we’ll have a hell of a time. At least now we know what we need to do.”

“Let’s go back to the common rooms for now,” said Blaise, “You’d not want to miss your own party, Harry. I’d imagine everybody’s milling around waiting for news in our common room too.”

“Same here,” nodded Anthony. “They’ll be ambushing us for gossip.”

Terry clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Yeah, we’re in this together.”

“Thanks, guys,” Harry smiled. 

He might have bad luck, but he couldn’t have been any more fortunate to have great friends.

\-----------------------------------

“I knew you’d be chosen, Harry!” yelped Collin excitedly.

“Yeah, we believe in you, mate!” cheered Fred and George, “tell us if you need anything. We’ll help you!”

“I still wish I could’ve gone,” sighed Ron enviously, “but better you than Warrington, mate. Here, have some pudding - this French stuff’s awesome!”

Harry smiled nervously and joined the festivities. Hermione thought it was wise of him not to mention the Nocturne Group’s suspicion that he only got chosen because somebody had been waiting at the Goblet to vanish all the other Hogwarts names. Especially since it would explain why the age line accepted the names without someone personally stepping into the circle to submit it - someone was already waiting in there… But that information wouldn’t help anyone, least of all the little flames of jealousy among their classmates. 

Personally, Hermione didn’t doubt Harry’s ability to handle the Tournament’s challenges. She was familiar with Harry’s strength and skills, and she’d seen many students worse than him successfully face down much greater danger than this in the past. The panel of judges, professors, and experts waiting at the side would also be watching to stop the event or rescue Harry if he looks to be struggling too much. Truthfully, this Tournament would be a very good training opportunity for Harry, and she’d encouraged him to stay in the Tournament primarily for this reason. Where else was he supposed to gain such challenging field experience in a controlled environment while under close supervision? 

Her one real concern, though, was interference from whoever entered Harry’s name into the Goblet. Who did it, and what for? Was Voldemort involved?

It was possible that her wayward heir had just cast his second move. But why the hell would he go after Harry now? It was hardly convenient for him, and shouldn’t he prioritize his own situation over revenge? Not that she had any more ideas as to what he was up to... 

Unfortunately, trying to take directed action against Voldemort without more information would be like trying to save a sand castle by stalling the tide with one’s bare hands - useless and wasteful. Better to use the time before the wave strikes to reinforce one’s own position and move anything valuable out of the way. On Harry’s end, she may have to catch the attack when it comes. 

The old families, then. There was a direction that needed proactive attention. The public may have forgotten the World Cup incident for now, but the problem was far from over. The ex-Death Eaters among her allies had certainly taken the reappearance of the Dark Mark to heart, and they were growing restless.

She had to strengthen their ties to her as much as possible, as quickly as possible. 

Before Voldemort could ruin it all. 


	10. Chapter 10

Though nothing significant happened in the days that followed, Hermione got the distinct sense that the ice under her feet was thinning. If she could keep the old families on her side then all would be easy. But should all the support she’d gained among the old families melt away with Voldemort’s return, she may well have to walk on water just to keep her friends and the students safe.

 “So Professor Moody, I saw the news in today’s paper. 70 new aurors in one year! That’s the whole cohort of trainees, right? Are they all your students?” Hermione asked her war-veteran professor on a Thursday.

 “Why, you hoping to become an auror?” Moody chuckled, a sound that closely resembled the rasping of drying branches outside. “You wouldn’t do so badly, I suppose. You’ve got the smarts and the diligence. You've got to work hard to make the cut."

 If he minded getting stopped after class by Hermione yet again, he didn’t show it.

"Thanks, Professor. The new class must've been really good if so many of them passed?" Hermione prodded. A good year might explain a few more passing trainees, but the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was expanding so aggressively that anyone with eyes could see it. Hermione had to assume that Dumbledore was bulking up light-leaning ministry department to increase his allies in the Wizengamot. Hadn’t the muggle market research group been moved out of Arthur Weasley’s department and spun into a standalone Department of Muggle Relations as well?

“They’re good enough,” said Moody shortly. 

Hermione was sure that the three new light-leaning ministry representatives in the Wizengamot were more than good enough. But now, how would her dark-traditionalist allies respond? They certainly were not blind. 

Chuckling halfheartedly, Hermione stowed that thought away. “I bet they’d have to learn quite quickly too, yeah?”

The electric-blue glass eye spun at lightning speed to fix itself on her face. “You think so, girl? What makes you say that?”

_ ‘Because there’s likely to be open war, as I can see that you’re aware. And now you’re wondering if I knew.’  _ “Well, with so many of them, the older Aurors won’t be spending as much time on each of them, right?”

“That’s not how education works, girl. Now shoo!”

Hermione stepped out of the classroom to find Harry and Ron waiting for her expectantly. “Well?”

 “I asked him about his trainees,” Hermione told them, “He deflected me twice, but to be fair I didn’t push the topic that hard either.”

 “Damn, Anthony would insist on raising his suspicion points,” Harry grumbled.

 “I guess we’ll have to. Everyone knows about Moody’s history as an auror. But impersonators would probably sooner research minutias of his personal life than research the boring parts of his work. Still, that doesn’t prove anything.”

“I still don’t think he’s the one that’s after me,” Harry insisted. “He showed us his memories in class so he can’t be a fake, yeah?”

“Well, nobody actually saw him take the memories straight from his head. Although, that doesn’t mean anything either. It would make sense for him to sort his memories before the lesson to pick out the most instructional parts.”

“I’m glad you’re the one who’s getting to know Moody and not Anthony. Anthony would probably be trying to stop me from going to defense class by now if he were the one watching Moody, which would really suck.”

After their emergency meeting, the Nocturne Group had launched into detective work once more with enthusiasm. Everyone except Harry had volunteered to become familiar with a suspect and tally their “suspicion points”. Meanwhile, Harry himself was supposed to keep himself safe and figure out the objective of the first task.

Crouch had told the champions that their first task would not be announced beforehand since it was meant to test their courage. Nobody ever said that champions couldn’t research the tasks on their own though, so Harry might as well take all the information he can get.

“Are you lot really going to follow all the teachers and ministry people around for the whole year?” Ron whined. He still didn’t entirely buy Harry’s insistence that his name had been entered without his knowledge.

“Probably,” nodded Harry cheerfully, “even if we’re worrying over nothing, it’ll be nice to know more about the people in charge of our government. Learning about the other two schools is nice too. Anthony’s found out so much about Beauxbatons already.”

“I think Anthony’s just happy for the excuse to hang around the Veela. You really think he’s running down to their carriage every morning for Madame Maxime?” Ron snorted, then sighed wistfully. “It’s too bad she’s a champion now. She’s never going to take another look at me,”

“Fleur’s got to be very skilled if she got chosen to represent Beauxbatons,” shrugged Hermione, “I don’t think becoming the champion would make her any prouder than she already is…? Hang on, do either of you feel like we’re being watched?”

Why was she suddenly getting a not unfamiliar feeling that there were eyes on her from the shadows…?

“Of course we are! Did you only just notice all these twerps oggling Harry?” Ron waved his long arms at a cluster of first-years who were trying unsuccessfully to blend in with the tapestry. Further down the hall, two second-years hastily shoved their noses into a textbook.

Harry glanced over, causing the first-years to turn beet red. “I wish they’d stop. This is as bad as first year!”

“Well,” said Hermione, “Look on the bright side! At least they aren’t stalking you like they do with Krum. He can’t even go to the library without being followed. Anyways, that’s not really what I meant - ”

“They do too!” insisted Ron defeatedly, “Harry got asked out to Hogsmeade by three girls already! You just weren’t around when they did it. Can’t you leave some for the rest of us, mate? Just pick one and the rest of them’ll go away, Harry,” Ron was saying, “Look, even Neville’s getting impatient. He keeps asking if you’ll be going to Hogsmeade with a date rather than with me or Sally!”

Hermione tripped. “He’s asking that?”

“Yeah! You see my point, Harry? Why else would he care if you’re going with us or not?”

“Why indeed?” In the interest of nipping trouble in the bud, Hermione resolved to set Neville up with his own date for Hogsmeade. “But I wasn’t talking about Harry’s admirers earlier. Don’t you feel like there’s someone else nearby, watching you and following you, except you just can’t see where they are?”

Harry and Ron glanced at one another. “Not really,”

“Huh. I guess it’s probably nothing. Are you guys going back to the common room?”

“Yeah! Are you not coming? Fred and George said they’ll be giving a live demo of their newest inventions in ten minutes!”

“I’ll be just a moment. See you later, then!”

They parted ways. Hermione walked a little way down the emptying corridor, then looked back intently at the purple tapestry on the right wall. “I know you’re there. You can come out now.”

There was a pop, and the next thing Hermione knew something had pounced on her legs.

\------

 

A floor above, Blaise was checking the tracking charm he’d stuck to the shoelace of the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation 

When Blaise volunteered to watch Bartemius Crouch, it wasn’t because he found the man to be especially suspicious. He just thought that Bartemius Crouch would be the most interesting to learn about, out of all their visitors. He had been head of the DMLE, climbing steadily toward the office of minister over the body of one accused Death Eater after another. It was almost funny how he’d tried to convict nearly half the people he’d now have to work with on this Hogwarts visit - Karkaroff, Snape, even that Quidditch bloke Bagman… But then his son turned out to be a Death Eater and that was the end of his political career.

Unfortunately, for a man with such an interesting history, Bartemius Crouch had ridiculously boring habits. All he did today was eat, walk around a bit, and sit in his temporary room.

Blaise yawned.

Whenever he did appear in public though, Crouch was always wearing the brooding look of someone who’d been owed money. Maybe he didn’t take his demotion well 

Or maybe he wasn’t happy with the fact that most people had already stopped caring about what happened at the Quidditch World Cup? Blaise actually sympathised with Crouch here. He just couldn’t shake off the feeling that the World Cup was only the start, and Harry’s maybe-assassin was only one of the troubles heading their way this year.

Blaise was sure some of the adults knew what was going on! Nobody seemed to want to talk about it though. His own mother didn’t seem to be involved, but Theo had privately said his father looked more and more worried by the day. Daphne’s mum must’ve caught wind of something too, because she’d apparently asked Daphne to keep an ear out. More amazingly, Blaise suspected that Theo and Daphne didn’t even share these information with each other. They’d both told _Blaise,_ separately. 

Blaise had always thought that the tight-knit social circle of the adults ran like a well-greased machine, but moments like this gave away the fact that they were not as united as they seem. It must be shadows of the war that divided them - Those who joined You-Know-Who’s revolution, those who would not, those too scared to make a decision, those who wanted better offers 

Huh. Adult business was so convoluted.

He wondered if that meant there’d be no political marriages between those camps either? Nobody did it overtly these days, but Blaise’s mum was great at sniffing these things out and the Malfoys and Parkinsons were always encouraging Draco and Pansy to hang around each other. So then, for families that previously seemed like obvious choices like, say, Nott and Greengrass…

Well, Blaise certainly didn’t mind the idea of Daphne not being promised to Theo. Or anyone, hopefully?

(Some people say thinking about feelings is for girls, but Blaise would tell those people to shove off! Besides, Theo could have no right to complain. The way he looked at Sal these days was so obvious, it was a bloody miracle that she hadn’t noticed!)

Now where and how should he ask Daphne to go to the ball with him? Maybe he could shower her with flowers as she goes into the common room? Or maybe he could… hmm 

When Blaise suddenly recovered his sense of time from wherever it had gotten lost in his daydream, he scrambled to check the tracking charm only to find that Crouch was … exactly where he was. Phew.

Thank Merlin that Crouch was so boring!

 

\-------------

A floor below, Hermione peered down at her "assailant".

“...Winky is so happy to see Miss Granger, Miss Granger!”

“You came!” Hermione beamed and tried to pretend she hadn’t been startled in the least, “How have you been, Winky? I hope you’re not being too hard on yourself.”

The elf’s ears drooped. “Winky is looking everywhere and asking the wizards and witches if they would take Winky in, but they is saying they is not wanting a freed elf. Nobody is wanting Winky... And poor old master Barty, he must be so alone!”

“You must’ve been a great help to him after what happened with his son. I hope he was able to move on..?” Hermione encouraged, but Winky had burst into such pitiful sobs that she settled for hugging her in silence instead.

Finally, the poor elf looked up through tearful eyes. “Will Miss Granger be Winky’s new mistress? Winky is finally having a new home to care for?” 

 _‘How miserable must you be to actually decide to bind yourself to me, Winky? For all you know, I don’t even have a roof to call my own.’_ Hermione couldn’t help but marvel. 

Still, she was looking forward to having Winky around. “My place is a bit empty at the moment, but maybe now that there’s two of us it’ll actually be a home.”

And plus, some help would certainly go a long way in a few of her upcoming plans.


	11. Chapter 11

_‘ **Exclusive: Meet the Tri-Wizard Champions** _

_Rita Skeeter_

_Today is the day, ladies and gentlemen! The Goblet of Fire has finally named its champions, and as I laid my eyes upon our the bright faces of our contenders I have one advice for you all: raise your expectations._

_Prepare to be mind-blown! Meet Viktor Krum of Bulgaria, catcher of the snitch during the Quidditch World Cup of this very year. Meet Fleur Delacour, the beautiful silver flower and heart-throb of France._

_And finally, meet our own Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived of England!_

_At the Wand-weighing ceremony Headmaster Dumbledore watched over the champions like a hawk, but I know how you thirst for news and you know how I love to please my dear readers. Luckily, I managed to spirit Harry away for just a few moments to bring you this exclusive interview._

_“Well it actually wasn’t my idea to enter the Triwizard Tournament, but now that the Goblet of Fire has chosen me I’m going to give it my best shot,” Harry told me when we were finally free from Dumbledore’s careful grasp, “I’m nervous for sure. I’m supposed to represent Hogwarts, and I feel like I’d let everyone down if I don’t well. I’m sure Krum and Delacour are very good, so I’ll definitely be working very hard to get a edge over them.”_

_Harry is a polite young man, but his one fault is his tendency to be too modest._

_Then I asked him if he was scared, considering that champions have died in the past._

_“I’d be lying if I say I’m not. I don’t remember much of the night my parents were killed - besides a bright flash of green, that is - but I suppose it did affect me in that it made me very aware of how precious life is. I’m thankful that I am alive, and I plan to stay that way,” he laughed, but his emerald eyes shorn with the fire of determination. “But I’m also determined to accomplish as much with my life as I possibly could.  Am I keen to prove myself? Definitely. And that’s why I’ll be playing to win in this Tournament.”_

_Before he was once again abruptly snatched away from me by Dumbledore, Harry invited me to watch him succeed. Or fail. “Honestly, I’m not even nearly as powerful or as knowledgeable as the other two Champions and I still have no idea why my name came out of the Goblet. Luckily for me though, hard work and creativity have no age requirements. I can promise that if Krum or Delacour beat me to the trophy in the end, [their victory] will be very well deserved.”_

_Because Harry isn’t going to make it easy for them._

_Are you excited yet, my dear readers? Are you itching to see what our Boy-Who-Lived has in store for us?_

_Until next time!’_

______________________________________________________

 

When Harry saw the front page of the Prophet (half of which had been given over to a picture of him), he promptly buried his head under the large newsprint as if he was never coming out again. “She still embellished it! I didn’t say it like that!”

“It could be worse,” said Hermione as she shuffled her own copy of the paper to make room for him.

“Yeah it could! She kept trying to ask me about my parents, and I had to keep talking and talking until she gave it up! I don’t think I would’ve lasted five minutes in that interview if I hadn’t rehearsed it with you guys and Daphne first,” Harry groaned, “And I can’t even begin to imagine how bad it would be if I’d let her use the quick-quote quill!”

“Well, this article would be a hell lot longer, for one,” Hermione guessed, “But don’t worry Harry, you did great.”

Skeeter’s article was long enough as it was, taking up most of the front page and spilling over. The only remaining text space on the first page was a sliver of a column to the left of Harry’s picture, given over to several headlines:

**_‘Bulstrode pledges bursaries for Auror trainees in need’_ **

**_‘One dead, one injured in Knocturn Alley duel, organized crime suspected.’_ **

**_‘Business: Silver Spindle rejects acquisition offers from Nott, Mulciber’_ **

Hermione shook her head in exasperation as she skimmed over the aforementioned articles. Just last week she’d been anticipating various directions of pushback from her political allies against Dumbledore’s advances in the Wizengamote, but now it was obvious that they’d in fact eschewed cooperation altogether in favour of securing precious wartime resources for themselves. On that front they certainly didn’t spare any expenses. One of the offers for the Spindle, for example, was so _generous_ that even Hermione had half a mind to take the money and invest it in a different initiative. Everyone was clear-sighted enough to expect a war, and wasted no time to prepare themselves.

Except, no one seemed to be considering the aftermath from beyond a self-centered perspective. If no one looked after the collective influence of the dark-traditionalist movement, they would be steamrolled the minute Voldemort is defeated and the light-progressives start to use their victory-fuelled momentum to impose regulations. Then they’d sit in their mansions several generations later, surrounded by weakened, ministry-approved magic, and wonder how they’d fallen so low.

In truth, Hermione was unsurprised. She had always been prepared to take responsibility herself for the interest of dark magic users as a whole. But this recent scramble by her allies to amass control over law enforcement, the criminal underground, and even wartime resources such as the fledgeling warding industry was a sign. _‘They will need more concrete assurances if they were to reject Voldemort and unite under my banner instead.’_

Well, she supposed she could start by showing them her own influences in some of those very systems they wished to control...

“I think I’ll go to Hogsmeade under the cloak today,” Harry had finally removed the newspaper from his head, “Skeeter’s staying in the village isn’t she? Wouldn’t want to run into her again.”

“Well, I’m sure the cloak will still fit you and Ron easily,” said Hermione, “I’m going to visit the new herbalist with Susan, Hannah, and Neville.”

“Huh,” Harry blinked, “since when do they hang out together?”

“Sometime this year I think,” Hermione shrugged. _‘Starting today, I hope,’_

Hmm, so far she was confident that Neville would become good friends with at least one of the Hufflepuff girls. She’d thought through this carefully. Arrange to go to Hogsmeade with the girls and invite Neville along - he wouldn’t refuse. Take them to the herbalist where Neville would be confident and well-spoken since it was his home field. Wait for them to find a common topic of interest - should be easy since their hobbies and personalities matched so well, suggest that they all go to the Three Broomsticks afterward… Surely they’d start spending more time together after that!

“Well, I’ll see you after then!” waved Harry, leaving Hermione to her schemes.

Hermione’s judgement turned out to be correct. Hannah and Neville struck up a conversation about herbology class just ten minutes into the walk to Hogsmeade, while Susan commiserated with Neville about strict aunts and grandmothers. When Hermione naturally left them in the Three Broomsticks upon seeing Daphne wave at her from the window, they were working out the logistics of volunteering at the greenhouse together. Parvati and Lavender wouldn’t even need to help them along (much) to make sure they’d keep running into one another!

Excellent! She wished all her plans would go this well.

(When Hermione enlisted them to help, Parvati and Lavender were ecstatic for the prospect of setting people up on dates. Hermione just needed Neville confused enough to forget about her. It was for his own good - he had no idea what he was getting into.)

“Hey Sal, not heading back already are you?” Daphne, Blaise, and Theo met with Hermione outside the Broomsticks, “You look happy about something.”

“Eh - ehehe, it’s nothing.”

Daphne blinked, then shrugged. “Well, there’s this really nice tea-shop we’ve never been to before. Let’s go check it out!”

“Sounds good,” Blaise nodded. Theo shrugged.

Well, if they were so enthusiastic about it… “Sure! It’ll be a nice change from butterbeer.”

“Brilliant! Let’s go,” Daphne beamed.

There was something about that smile that made Hermione wonder whether there was something significant about their trip to this tea-shop (“It’s called Madam Puddifoot’s Tea-shop”, said Daphne, “you can’t miss it.”). Unfortunately, it was only after she’d sat down at the tiny lace-covered table that she’d figured out what that something was!

The first thing Hermione noticed upon stepping into the pleasant aroma of vanilla was that each table only sat two - in fact, all the customers seemed to have came in pairs. After the lady who ran the shop cheerily moved two little round tables closer together for them, Blaise and Daphne took one of the tables while Hermione and Theo carefully navigated around the couple holding hands next to them to squeeze into the pink-cushioned chairs.

The second thing Hermione noticed was that the table was really, _really_ small. There was no room to avoid bumping her knees into Theo’s, and any attempt to move their chairs back were foiled by the position of the other tables. Hermione glanced over to the right to find Blaise and Daphne in a similar predicament, except they didn’t seem to mind at all. _‘Okay, something’s definitely going on…’_

“What do you think of this place?” Daphne beamed again like a cat that scored the cream, “Cute, isn’t it?”

“Well…” “It’s …” Hermione and Theo started to answer at the same time.

 _‘This is really cosy...’_ Hermione gave Theo an apologetic smile, only to find his expression cycling between something like surprise and embarrassment. Frozen in his seat as if he dared not move a muscle, Hermione had never seen the young aristocrat so awkward.

Wait. Daphne chose this place for a reason. But if she wanted to go on a date with Blaise, wouldn’t she go with him alone? Why would she invite - Oh.

No bloody way!

_‘They set us up!’_

And she’d thought she was in the clear just five minutes ago after she’d gotten Neville settled!

She could find an excuse and leave - but then Theo would come with her out of social etiquette and it would really turn into a date. She’d have to stay put. “You’re right, this is a nice place! Great for a cold day. Where else have you guys visited today? I went to the herbalist.”

“We just went to the usual places,” said Daphne, “But I didn’t see Harry with you today, Sal. Did he go off on his own?”

“He’s hiding from Skeeter,” Hermione leaned back and consciously relaxed her body. Then she had to scoot forward again because the couple behind her decided to lean in for a snog.

“That wasn’t smart, she might think he went somewhere private with a secret lover!”

“She wouldn’t dare write anything like that out of respect for you,” Theo pointed out, then muttered, “Although that might change after Yule. You and Blaise are obviously going to the ball together.”

“Are we?” Blaise smirked.

“Sure,” giggled Daphne.

Hermione was wondering if she could discreetly cast a spell to block out the noises that the table behind her was making. Fortunately, she realized which topic Daphne was stealthily steering the conversation toward just in time.

 _‘Oh no no no, we are_ not _talking about dates for the ball!’_  “Isn’t it a bit early for that? They haven’t even announced that the ball would be happening yet. The first task of the Tournament hasn’t even happened yet! Too bad we’re no closer to figuring out what the task is.”

“Or the person who put Harry’s name in,” added Theodore, “I’ve been keeping an eye on Karkaroff, but he hasn’t set a foot into Hogwarts since the opening ceremony. It’s as if he had no interest in us.”

“Maybe he doesn’t enjoy running into Dumbledore or Moody.”

This was good. If they kept the conversation going like this, they could almost make this feel like a normal conversation even though their legs brushed against each other everytime one of them moved...

Unfortunately, Daphne was not going to give up so easily. “Come on, it’s too good a day to talk about plots! Sal, I can’t wait to see you in that rose dress. No, seriously - you two didn’t see it, but it’s gorgeous. Just imagine then: it has short sleeves that sit just on her shoulders and a neckline that goes across her chest just under her collarbone, and -”

“I’m regretting my impulsive purchase already,” Hermione looked around the room. The server bringing their drinks was still nowhere in sight.

“Well, at least you didn’t spend the money on those prank stuff that are going around the school these days,” said Theodore, “Looks like the Weasleys are finally going to be rich.”

“Or love potions,” said Blaise, “those are the most pointless inventions ever. Anyone with brains would rather date someone they actually spend time with and care about.”

 _‘Aaand time to change the topic again…’_ “Didn’t Lockhart suggest that we all ask Professor Snape to show us how to make a love potion the year he was teaching here? Professor Snape looked as if he was going to strangle someone!”

Blaise burst out laughing at the memory. “Ha - I remember! That was the weirdest Valentine Day ever. Remember the stupid dwarf cupids who’d attack your ankles if you didn’t let them screech in your ears?”

“Yeah! Harry got one. It looked incredibly painful.”

“And that song Theo wrote to frame Weasley! It was epic!”

Theo chuckled too. “That rumour didn’t last long enough. I think people figured out that Weasley couldn’t do rhymes.”

“Didn’t you have to call in two favours from the upper years to get them to write that for you?” asked Daphne curiously. “What exactly did Ronald do, Theo? It must be something big if it warranted such a creative revenge.”

Hermione swallowed a hiccup.

Theodore blushed.

“...I don’t remember!”

But they were spared from Daphne’s interrogation when Madam Puddifoot chose this perfect moment to arrive with their mugs.

“Thank you,” Hermione told the portly woman with maybe just a little too much sincerity.

“I wonder what Lockhart’s doing now,” Theo seized the opportunity, “still in hospital trying to get his memories back? What d’you reckon he ran into in Diagon Alley?”

“Maybe it’s one of those gangs that litter about Knocturn Alley? They’ve been acting up a lot these days.”

“Sounds like a job for the new Aurors,” said Hermione, taking a sip of cinnamon hot cocoa. It was delightfully spicy, and she would’ve loved to come back to this tea room if only the atmosphere could be a little less … cozy.

“But they’re fresh on the job. You can’t expect them to do everything that a normal Auror can,” Theo objected, emphasizing his point with his cappuccino spoon before realizing that he was dripping foam onto the lace tablecloth. He put the spoon to his lips.

“Exactly,” agreed Hermione, “but cleaning up the potion cartels and the organ traffickers would be a way for them to get experience quickly. And then they’ll be able to handle more dangerous conflicts when they come.”

Theo’s spoon slid out of his mouth. “More dangerous - Do you mean…? But how would you - ” he shuffled forward intently and lowered his voice, “why would you expect Aurors to face anything more dangerous than a gang war?”

_ ‘Why would I expect? Or why would _ I _ expect?’  _ The corners of Hermione’s mouth quirked as she also leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, “A more interesting question is whether Moody expects. He would have a lot of influence over what the Aurors actually do, right? If he’s the real deal. I think we should go and ask Moody about it.”

“And drop his suspicion points if he correctly predicts whether they’d send a lot of new Aurors out to deal with the gangs?” 

“Something like that, yes,” Hermione nodded.

But the gesture suddenly made Hermione realize that their faces were very,  _ very  _ close together. 

She willed herself to casually relax back in her seat and take another sip of her cocoa. ‘ _ That was too close.’ _

To her right, their other two friends who'd so painstakingly created her current predicament seemed to be off in their own world. “My coffee’s too bitter,” Daphne was complaining to Blaise, “Let me try yours,”

“My pleasure,” said Blaise.

Hermione and Theodore looked at each other furtively, then quickly looked away.

_‘What have I gotten myself into?’_

 

\------------------------------------------------

Back at the Three Broomsticks, Parvati and Lavender sipped happily on mugs of butterbeer.

“Hmm, Neville and Susan are getting along really well, but I think Neville and Hannah would be perfect together,” clapped Lavender proudly.

“Yeah, Sally was right - they’re meant to be! Want to bet that they’ll go to the ball together?”

“Nah, we’ll make sure it happens! But speaking of dates for the Ball, what about ourselves? Who would you like to go with?”

“Well...”

Two pairs of eyes simultaneously glanced over to a certain spot four tables to their right.

“... We think alike!”

“But would that be alright though? Wouldn’t want to hurt the feelings of a friend…”

“Hmm…”

\------------------------------------------------

Also in the Three Broomsticks, Harry and Ron glanced at the pair of girls four tables to their left.

“Parvati and Lavender look really excited about something today,” Harry scratched his head and did his best to smooth his hair that had just been ruffled by the invisibility cloak, “I wonder what they’re talking about.”

“I dunno, what do girls talk about?” shrugged Ron.

“Well, Sally and Daphne only talk about the usual stuff.”

“That’s different though! Don’t you ever see girls giggling about something on their own and when you ask them about it they wouldn’t tell you? I mean, Ginny’s like that all the time!”

“Really? I haven’t noticed,” wondered Harry, “I wonder if other girls do that.”

… Like Cho? What would Cho talk about with her friends?

Maybe Quidditch? Or books?

Or maybe this mysterious girls-only topic that existed according to Ron?

Hmm…

Harry wasn’t sure what his thoughts were doing, but he found himself wondering if Cho would come to watch the first task for the Tournament, and would she cheer for anyone? Krum or Delacour or...

Ron kept waving his hand in front of Harry’s eyes on their way back to school. “You spaced out again, mate!”

“Sorry,” said Harry sheepishly, but he was miraculously saved from needing to make excuses by a small voice from below.

_“Teacher! Teacher! You will not believe what I saw in the forest!”_

Harry stopped. _“Crookshank? How did you know I am here? I wear an invisibility cloak.”_

 _“I can smell you, Teacher!”_ piped the little viper, _“Guess what I saw in the forest! They are giant and they have wings! Esmeralda said they are probably called ‘dragons’! Have you ever seen a dragon, Teacher?”_

Dragons? In the forest?!

“What’d it say?” Ron looked on, confused.

“I -I think,” whispered Harry slowly, “Crookshank’s just told me what the first task would be!”

\------------------------------------------------

In the headmaster’s office, Albus rubbed his temples. This year was not proving to be an easy year.

There were too many unknowns. He was no closer to figuring out who interfered with the Goblet of Fire. He had no successful leads so far on what Tom Riddle was planning, although he’d asked some trustworthy aurors to keep an eye on some likely places. And moreover, he still had no definitive answer in why the dark-traditionalists were behaving the way they were.

Recently many of the old families, especially the former death eaters, had begun carving out territories among themselves. They were investing alone when it might have been more profitable to collaborate or even pass up the opportunity. Albus had expected this. He expected them to focus on making themselves valuable in order to buy themselves better treatment by whichever side they ultimately chose. He expected infighting.

What Albus did not expect was for them to still maintain so much solidarity at the same time. He’d thought they would try to paralyze the ministry as they had done during the first war by stalling every debate, but for now they were actually still moving issues along and pushing forward new initiatives. Certainly, they had been too busy to react when he added numbers to the light-leaning group within the Wizengamot, but something or someone was still ensuring that they still had a common political goal. Except, even Severus could identify the influencer.

In times like this, in theory, headmasters were supposed to be able to turn to the portraits of their predecessors for guidance. Practically though, Albus would be perfectly happy if they’d all just go back to sleep instead of filling his office with their chattering:

“I simply cannot believe they have reinstated the Triwizard tournament again. Have we not learned from the death of the two champions during my time?”

“As I’ve told you back when you were headmaster, everything will be fine if the tasks are chosen carefully. The tournaments was a great success during my time.”

“Nobody died in the tournaments during my term either.”

“Nor during mine… But headmaster Ashby, were you not headmaster during that year when the Goblet simply refused to name a Hogwarts champion? How bad must the students be to suffer such humiliation?”

“Why you - you should know, Lefford, seeing as your father was one of the students who entered his name into the Cup that year!”

“My respected predecessors, can you please stop bickering with your uninformed opinions?” said Phineas Black with an odd tone of smugness in his voice, “I’ve actually seen this year’s champions, and I assure you they’re very well prepared.”

“It’s not fair,” Armando Dippet mumbled, “Just because Slytherin’s playing favourites doesn’t mean -”

“Like I told you when you were still headmaster, Headmaster Dippet, I’d be perfectly happy to make deals with you too. If only you would reciprocate,” said Slytherin nonchalantly.

Upon hearing the words “Slytherin” and “deal”, Albus found himself unable to ignore the chattering portraits any longer. He strained his neck to look up. “What deal, Salazar?”

Slytherin reclined back in his chair. “Nothing really, Headmaster. I’ve granted Phineas four years of access to my second frame, and he has already made excellent use of it to develop his eyes and ears throughout the castle. Headmaster Dippet was just remarking on the information disparity between Phineas and himself.”

“How generous of you, Salazar,” said Albus, as impeccably amiable as he’d been when he was fending off Skeeter, “but like you said, surely a deal must go both ways?”

What was Slytherin trying to accomplish now? Could he have caught wind of his heir’s looming return? And would he do anything in response? That was what Albus really wanted to know.

Or perhaps, he already had?

The inscrutable portrait who was once Albus’s mentor laughed. “Certainly. Phineas is very fair. Why, are you concerned that he will shortchange me?”

“I have full confidence in your ability to make people sell their lives to you while sounding like you’re doing _them_ a favour,” Albus sighed.

Slytherin sighed too. “How I wish I could say the same...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm not sure if too much of the chapter was given over to teenage romance. I hope I didn't overdo it with Sally's double date?
> 
> In this chapter there are 3 main pieces of information that are important to the politics arc. Are they noticeable?


	12. Chapter 12

Tristan Nott had never been a man to care about fashion even before his wife had left him at the banks of River Styx.

To him, one tailor was the same as another as long as they charged reasonable prices and had a decent stream of affluent customers. Why did it matter which brand was on the tag? But recently, even he had begun to pay attention to the names on shopping bags and the catalogues in fashion magazines.

To be honest, he was really searching for one brand in particular. That was how he caught sight of the subtle change in the now ubiquitous logo the day after it had happened.

The Silver Spindle. _The_ **_S_ ** _ilver_ **_S_ ** _pindle._ It could not be a coincidence that they’d changed the calligraphy of the two ‘S’s to match _that_ signature!

Now he knew why the Spindle would not and could not allow itself to be bought by him. When his first acquisition offer had been rejected, he had not felt too discouraged - He’d simply assumed that he was in a bidding war with some of his old comrades and classmates. After all, the Spindle was one of the largest player in the warding and enchantment industry. It possessed matured business all across the socioeconomic spectrum, a rarity in such a young industry. Estimates generally agreed that after the Spindle’s most recent expansion, if its owners chose to dedicate all of the Spindle’s resources toward warded garments, the fashion line had sufficient capacity to equip nearly all of magical Britain within a year.

Furthermore, The Spindle owed no significant amount of debt to any one entity, its key employees were too loyal to feasibly tempt into leaving, and so far it had withstood all attempts to smother it with competition. Many other warding services and product providers had appeared, but so far none could match the Spindle’s coverage or its remarkable resilience to pressure. He who controlled the Spindle essentially held the throttle to the population’s ability to defend itself.

This made the Spindle a highly desirable asset to have in one’s portfolio for anyone who wished to survive the Dark Lord’s increasingly likely return. Tristan for one knew first-hand how much the Dark Lord disdained uselessness...

(In the deepest part of his heart, Tristan resented that the Dark Lord would return just as they had finally seen the glimmer of hope for a bloodless revolution. He quickly smothered that feeling before it could take root. The Dark Lord was an unstoppable leglimen and Tristan didn’t think his own old bones could take that many more crucios.)

Except now it was all a moot point. _S_ had gotten their hands on the shop long before anyone else. Now the question to answer was: what point was S making with this frankly unsubtle display?

It was almost as if S was flexing their muscles, declaring to all their correspondents that they controlled a bastion of the warding industry. But toward what end?

Tristan almost didn’t dare to imagine.

* * *

Lucius had never been a man to be confused about the news. To him, news reports generally fell into two categories: old stories that he’d already heard about from one of his connections, or drivel that didn’t matter. But this morning, he found himself staring at a short, unassuming 14th-page article in the Prophet as if some secrets had been buried within:

**_‘Aurors storm Knocturn Alley crime den, apprehended 5’_ **

From Lucius’s understanding, the whole mission should’ve amounted to no more than a training exercise for new Auror recruits. The Aurors had chosen a poorly defended meeting place as easy targets, and it was unlikely that any of them were important - there would have been many more arrests otherwise. As far as law enforcement went, this mission had not even made a dent in the criminal underworld.

But two small details made this Auror mission significant for Lucius. One was the fact that the raided locations belonged to the largest gang that had allied with the Dark Lord during the war ten years ago. Lucius had a hard time believing this choice to be coincidental. After all, the recent increase in gang activity had not gone up randomly. Some of the groups whose growth had benefited from the Dark Lord’s support during the last war were clearly being sponsored to simplify the playing field and mop up any smaller rivals. The smaller, newer gangs, of course, would not go down so easily. Lucius strongly suspected that Greengrass and Selwyn were quietly keeping them alive just to stir the cauldron. Thus, this recent Auror raid reeked of interference. 

According to Lucius’s contacts, the training mission had been proposed by Alastor Moody. Apparently Moody had jumped out of the Auror department floo like the neurotic tosser he was, bellowed the order at the team leaders, and then popped back out again. Respected as he was, they obeyed. 

More incredible was the way the target had been proposed. Supposedly it was suggested by Narcissa’s half-blood niece Nymphadora Tonks, who’d received the idea from Sirius Black. Black, in turn, had been under the impression that he had been passing along a message from Dumbledore, but Lucius found it uncharacteristic of Dumbledore to give guidance on a mission so inconsequential. It was all very strange. 

The second significant point about the Auror mission was that weeks before, in his correspondence with S, he’d received an almost careless reminder to be careful in Knocturn Alley as there was likely to be an Auror firefight within the next month or two. 

Lucius was sure that this warning had been significant in some way! His intuition told him that S was making a point, although it would take a bit more thinking to divine the message or even the intended recipient. 

Was S simply saying, _look, I have friends among the aurors too_ ? Unlikely, since it was hardly impressive. Everybody had _some_ eyes and ears into the ranks of the law enforcers, and if S wanted to demonstrate influence they would’ve used a mission with real impact. 

Or perhaps it was the seeming involvement of Dumbledore and his ilk that was significant? Was S saying, _look, I have friends on the other side, and I’ll call on them if I need to_? But Lucius couldn’t imagine why anyone would announce a thing like that. Lucius himself was still trying to downplay his connection to his wayward brother-in-law whenever the subject came up!

Or perhaps the message was actually, _look, I know what you lot would rather be squabbling over when I ask for your united support on continuing our momentum in political and societal change._

_Don’t think for a minute I don’t know what’s going on._

Yes, that one sounded quite plausible.

But now Lucius really wanted to know what S was trying to accomplish. They obviously knew that everyone expected the Dark Lord to return - in fact, they almost certainly believed it too - so why was S wasting time on all these correspondences, all these moves in the Wizengamot, all this posturing to Lucius and the others? It would be like quarrelling over a line drawn in the sand when the tide is coming. But, perhaps his mysterious friend had one last plan up their sleeve.

As an opportunist himself, Lucius wouldn’t mind being surprised once more.

 

* * *

 

“That went well,” said Portrait-Salazar when Hermione told the portraits of her friends about her latest correspondence with the old families. Lucius and a few others had made a point of acknowledging her advice about Auror activity in Knocturn Alley.

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed, “it was easy to demonstrate that the Spindle is under my protection, and I was cautiously optimistic about convincing Moody to launch the training mission. But I honestly didn’t think you could actually get Sirius to suggest that shack to the Aurors!”

“Yes, I’m surprised as well,” said Portrait-Rowena, “How did you convince him?”

“Didn’t you know?” snorted Portrait-Godric, “No one can resist Sally’s silvertongue when he starts nattering at them.”

Portrait-Helga rolled her eyes.

“Well, Phineas was more than happy to introduce me to the other portraits in his house - he was pretty much pulling me around like a show horse,” shrugged her portrait self, “and once they knew who I am, some of them were quite willing to help me deliver a message from the Headmaster’s Office. And they promised not to let it slip that Salazar Slytherin was playing message boy. It was very considerate of them.”

Asking Portrait-Salazar to get access to 12 Grimmauld Place had been an idle move, but she was still happy that it became useful so quickly. Meanwhile, Winky had done a great job shadowing shady wizards wearing the yellow-green band on their left arms and watching to see where they met. Apparently Severus had grumbled up a storm when Portrait-Sal wheedled that gang emblem out of him though. She wasn’t sure what he thought of her or what he thought she’d do with the information, but she hoped he wasn’t imagining her trying to demolish their base like a simpleton.

“What were you actually trying to do by influencing the auror raid?” asked Portrait-Rowena, “The aurors could’ve gotten training anywhere, and you know a small base wouldn’t even make a dent in the gang’s operations.”

“Partly it was to show that I can work with Dumbledore’s people with reasonable confidence. Partly it was to let them know that I know about their race to carve out territories and yet still choose to treat them like my allies. But mainly I just wanted to give myself something to work with when I try to bluff them into following _my_ plan for dealing with Voldemort’s return later,” Hermione explained sheepishly, “It’s nice that people are so subtle, especially now that they’ve grown to expect significance from the things I say. Hopefully when I talk to them later, I can help them interpret this ‘statement’ from me in a useful way.”

Hermione hated making vague signals to puff herself up, and she could never quite get over the discomfort whenever it became necessary to do it. Unfortunately, the largest source of her power was currently her influence over exactly the group of people she was trying to win over. On her own she had the Spindle and her own skills as a mage (which she would have no occasion to demonstrate), but those alone would not be enough to assure people that her side would be the winning side. Like most of the largest endeavours in her two lives, this situation required the use of leverage, and leverage quite often involved promising things she didn’t yet have.

The question now was, what should she do next now that she’d impressed and postured as much as she could. She’d have to somehow propose her plan to her allies. Perhaps she could float the idea around and gauge people’s reaction? Sow some more discontent toward Voldemort? She’d have to approach this step delicately.

Her portrait friends shrugged. In the past they usually let Salazar deal with this sort of things.

“So, Moody is unlikely to be an imposter if he had the galls to order the Aurors about and they didn’t notice anything wrong with him,” commented Portrait-Helga.

“That’s true,” agreed Hermione, “but it doesn’t matter much, because I’m going to keep tabs on him regardless. He’s far too interesting.”

The rest of the Nocturne Group were finding out all sorts of interesting things in their investigations too, even if they were no closer to pinning anyone down as guilty. Two weeks ago, Anthony and Theo had regaled everyone between sniggers how Maxime had seduced Hagrid into showing her the obstacle for the First Task while Karkaroff played Peeping Tom on their date. Blaise had found it hilarious.

Portrait-Godric found it hilarious too. “So Albus knows the details for all the tasks in advance, but the other two headmasters were kept in the dark? Interesting!”

“I still say dragons are a bit excessive, if you ask me,” commented Portrait-Helga. “We don’t even live in an age where everybody might face threats from creature attacks anymore. Not all the students are growing up to be dragon-tenders, so what’s the point?”

“Please, let’s not talk about the Triwizard Tournament anymore,” begged Portrait-Rowena, “it’s all we hear about these days in the Headmaster’s Office. Especially with the First Task is happening today.”

“A pity it’s outside,” muttered Portrait-Godric.

Hermione offered to set up a two-way mirror for them in the Chamber if they promised not to gossip with the other portraits.

“But after the first task would be the holidays, yes?” Portrait-Helga remembered, “They must resurrect the Yule Ball this year for the tournament. I miss the days when it used to be an annual tradition! Godric, you were so good at the line dances!”

“They don’t do line dances anymore,” Portrait-Rowena pointed out, “they do this partner dance called waltz last I checked. You’ve got a partner yet, Sal?”

Hermione suddenly felt quite uncomfortable under their expectant gazes. “It’s not mandatory to find a dance partner in advance, you know. I believe this is an event for socializing.”

“That’s not what it sounded like listening to all those young men on the seventh floor trying to find a pretty witch for company,” said Portrait-Godric doubtfully.

“...Tsk, tsk, Godric,” said Hermione, “is _that_ the sort of things you spend your time eavesdropping on?”

“Hey! That’s not fair-”

“He has a point though,” said Portrait-Helga, “if you’re not supposed to go in pairs, how come all the young witches in my common room are trying to coordinate colours with their dates?”

Hermione gave up on trying to change the subject subtly. It still astounded her that there was so much expectation riding on one ball! It was as if some fuse had been lit, the spark slowly dancing along as everyone waited for ignition with bated breath. And she still wasn’t sure how best to deal with Theo after the little trap that Daphne had set for them at Madam Puddifoot’s.  “Please, let me figure that out myself. I’ve got to run up to breakfast now - best to check on Harry before he goes to face his dragon.”

The Nocturne Group had done an excellent job at preparing for the first task. Everything was quite thorough, and Harry should be able to finish with decent standing among the competition.

With luck, they might even identify the culprit trying to endanger Harry’s life. But somehow she doubted it would be that easy.

 

* * *

 

Harry took a deep breath and gulped down the nervousness as he followed Ludo Bagman into the champion’s tent.

Before they went in, Bagman had pulled him aside and quietly whispered that since he was the underdog, Ludo wouldn’t mind giving him a bit of extra help or pointers if he needed. Harry could understand Bagman taking pity on him - he probably looked pretty outclassed standing next to Delacour and the formidable Viktor Krum.

In any case, Harry declined the offer. He was planning to win fair and square, and he felt good enough about what he’d already done to prepare. Besides, Bagman was one of the suspects. Harry didn’t _think_ he was trying to steer him wrong, but one can never be too careful when facing down a dragon.

Harry did somewhat regret refusing Bagman’s help when he drew the most dangerous of dragons as his opponent, though. Why couldn’t _he_ have picked the Chinese Fireball or the Welsh Green? Why did _he_ of all people have to get the Hungarian Horntail? Bloody hell…

Ah well, in the end it hopefully wouldn’t matter.

Fleur was the first one up, while Krum and Harry waited in the tent trying to figure out what was going on outside - without peeking too obviously, because that was against the rules. For a while nothing seemed to happen, but then a gasp rose up from the crowds followed by a sigh of relief. Soon, a cheer went up signifying the end of Fleur’s trial, and Krum shuffled out without a word. Harry heard several loud blasting sounds, followed by a ground-shaking crash. Then the crowd cheered again.

Then, much sooner than Harry was mentally prepared for, he was being shuffled out of the safety of the tent to the clearing outside!

How the hell did Krum manage to beat his dragons so quickly? It sounded like he straight up managed to knock it out! Harry knew enough about dragonhide to realize that he couldn’t pull off something like that in his wildest dreams. He just didn’t know any spells that could burst through that stuff. But fortunately for Harry, nobody said he had to fight the dragon. In fact, the Nocturne group had made him promise repeatedly not to go anywhere near the fire-breathing monstrosity. He just had to work around it, somehow.

Blinking in the bright morning sun, Harry tried not to look too jelly-legged as he marched out into the clearing. He could feel the expectant gaze from the audience on his back, although it probably turned to confusion when he stopped just a few meters from the tent and hid behind an engorgio’ed rock.

“Don’t go anywhere near the dragon’s breathing range where an unfortunate ‘accident’ could happen,” he could still hear Theo nagging in his head, “You have to stay well clear of the dragon and in plain sight of the audience at all time. If you can’t finish the task that way, quit.”

Easy for him to say! Harry was sure he’d die of embarrassment if he actually did that. Steadying his pounding heart, he narrowed his eyes at the golden egg nestled among the real eggs. _So, get the egg, huh_?

“Accio Golden egg,” he tried.

It didn’t budge. Over the megaphone, Harry vaguely heard Ludo Bagman announcing his failed spell to everybody watching. Great.

He supposed it couldn’t be that easy. There was probably some enchantment on the egg to counter summoning charms.

“Wingardium Leviosa,” he cast at the egg again. _C’mon, Harry! If Ron can levitate a club in first year, you can damn well levitate a bloody egg in your fourth!_

Sadly, it didn’t move at all.

“...The egg is resistant to quite a number of spells!” Bagman was still narrating to the audience, “Mister Potter would have to try harder than that to get his prize!”

Harry couldn’t help the frustration welling up inside him. Damn… That was meant to stop people from avoiding the task wasn’t it? It was kind of dumb of him to expect to finish a task with just a first year spell.

But there was still one thing he could try.

“Looks like Mister Potter has another idea!” Ludo Bagman’s magnified voice sounded oddly relieved, “He’s picked up another pebble and transfigured it into… a butterfly net?”

“Wingardium Leviosa,” Harry forced himself to ignore the confused murmurs and concentrate on directing the net to slowly float toward the foot of the dragon. Closer… Closer… _Yes!_

Harry almost did a victory dance when the rim of the net managed to wiggle under the egg, looping the golden prize in the mesh. “He’s net the egg!” Bagman exclaimed, “He cannot levitate the egg, so he’s carrying it in something he could control. What a show of creativity!”

Harry felt himself grinning ear to ear. Who said you needed to be a seventh year to compete? He was doing well enough -

But the dragon must’ve been disturbed by the noise. It shifted with an air of annoyance, and plopped down right on the golden egg. _Well, damn.._.

“Avis,” Harry cast the spell that he’d learned from Ollivander during the wand weighing, sending a small flock of sparrows to peck at the Horntail’s face. The dragon started to shake its head like a cow warding off flies. Then one bird must’ve gotten too close to its eyes, causing it to blow a small jet of fire. _Please move please move please move…_

After Merlin-knew-how-long, the dragon finally shuffled off in an attempt to swallow the birds. Seizing the opportunity, Harry urged his net to fly back as fast as it could before the dragon would notice. It was actually pretty hard to move things from such a long way off.

Now he wished he’d transfigured a camouflage bag to carry the egg instead of a net! At least it wouldn’t be so shiny and eye catching.  

The egg was halfway across the field when the dragon realized that it was happening and launched itself at it. “Accio net!” Harry shouted, and almost got smacked in the face by the egg whizzing toward him.

“He’s done it!” Bagman cheered happily while two dragon tamers tried to calm the now furious Horntail. The dragon was belting out its displeasure in frankly terrifying screeches as it strained against its chain to claw in the direction of Harry’s rock. _‘Bloody dragon,’_ Harry rolled his eyes at it in between breaths of relief, _‘It’s not really your egg, you dumb brute!’_

The judged didn’t seem too impressed with him though. Dumbledore and Bagman give him 10s, Crouch gave him a generous “8”, but Madame Maxime gave him a modest “5” for taking the longest. Meanwhile, Karkaroff awarded him a “2” for putting in “minimal effort”. But it was good enough for Harry. He was still alive, no one got the chance to attack him from the shadows, and he had the egg.

Here he was, competing in a tournament for NEWT-level students and succeeding without a scratch! If someone really put his name in to hurt him or watch him make a fool of himself they must be seething right now, Harry thought giddily as he waved up at his friends in the stands with a giant grin on his face. Sure, there was still two more tasks, but who cared! He’d gotten the egg!

Mostly he was just happy that he didn’t have to quit the tournament without seriously trying,

No sooner had he leave the arena, Harry was nearly tackle-hugged by Ron and his friends. “I knew you could do it! You’re in third place because of bloody Karkaroff playing favourites, but you’re only one point behind Krum! He made his dragon smash half of the real eggs, and the judges really didn’t like that.”

“I’m sure you’ll overtake him in the next one,” said Neville encouragingly.

“That was smart of you, Harry!” nodded Daphne, “Glad to see all that charms and transfiguration practice paid off.”

“Harry, we didn’t see anyone acting strange during your task,” said Theo, “Karkaroff seems like a sleazy bastard who only cares about Durmstrang coming out ahead, so he’s probably not the one who put your name in. But then, maybe he only gave you such a low score to make you get more active next time, so we can’t count him out just yet.”

“You lot can worry about plots later!” shouted Dean, “Right now it’s butterbeer time!”

“Yeah!”

Clutching his golden prize tightly in his arms, Harry laughed all the way back to the castle.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That chapter was hard! I wonder if the Nott and Malfoy sections made any sense.


End file.
